Fate/stay night and Fate/zero are the property of TYPE-MOON. This story is a work of fanfiction, and the author makes no claim to these properties. Some lines of dialogue have been excerpted from the above works in their entirety in this fanfiction. They are from the translations by mirror-moon and Baka-Tsuki, respectively.
Please thank Mashadar, Kyadytim, Da-Guru and ttestagr for prereading this for me. Their contributions significantly improved this chapter. Any typographical mistakes remaining are most likely results of the author making changes at the eleventh hour and not soliciting proper feedback.
I apologize for the time it to me to publish this. It took a lot of work, reworking, and editing and was beset on all sides by delays. Thank you for your patience.
Continuation of the Dream
Part One: Waking from the Dream
IV
Arturia grimaces at the ledger in her lap and rubs her eyes with her free hand. The crabbed handwriting on the pages swims in her vision, and she closes her eyes with a sigh. The merchant who commissioned her to copy his records last week was literate, a rare and valuable skill for a merchant. Unfortunately, his handwriting is terrible, nearly illegible, and the struggle to decipher it slows her work considerably. She would have preferred to refuse the commission, but it is her contribution to the town's trade for supplying the scribe. She truly wishes she had had the freedom to refuse. The fact that he set a tight deadline so that he could pick up the original and the copy at his convenience adds to her irritation. It is bad enough, she thinks, to have to suffer through his scribbles in small doses, but the pressure to get it done on time forces her to spend almost all day on it every day.
"Arthur!" An excited shout shocks her from her reverie, and she jerks to her feet, her hand reaching for the sword she is not carrying. Only her quick reflexes save the ledger and her copy-in-progress from sliding to the ground. Arturia looks around sharply, cursing her persistent habit of reaching for a sword when startled. She sinks back onto her seat on the bench in front of the inn as Bertwald skids to a stop in front of her.
"S-sorry," he pants. "I didn' mean t'startle you."
She waves off his apology and eyes him curiously. "Is something wrong?" Her eyes narrow. "A letter?" Her voice is tense.
Bertwald nods and holds out a folded paper with shaking hands. She takes it from him carefully. This is the first correspondence Bertwald has asked her to read since the end of summer, and he had been clearly worried that he would not hear from his beloved before the onset of winter. Since confiding in her after the incident with Emma, he has opened up to her more. Even though the two of them do not talk frequently, both of them take comfort in the company of another who understands the pain of separation.
"Arthur, you sure you ain't too busy for this?" Bertwald asks. "You're clearly doin' somethin' already. I don't want t' break our agreement."
Arturia glances at the ledger on her lap, then at Bertwald's hopeful expression. "I am not too busy." She unfolds the paper and skims it contents quickly, trying to ignore the fidgeting man in front of her. Carefully, she schools her face into a pleasant expression and gestures to the bench next to her. "Please, have a seat."
Bertwald sits, looking at her eagerly. Arturia swallows, her mouth suddenly gone dry.
"Bertwald," she begins reading, watching him out of the corner of her eye, "I am sorry you have to find out by letter, and it pains me to have to tell you this way. There has been a spate of pox here, Bertwald. It is like nothing we have ever seen before," she continues, struggling to keep her voice dispassionate, "although it seems to have settled down now. There were many deaths, among them my daughter Leofrun." Bertwald makes a choking sound and Arturia stops reading. Disregarding the rest of the letter, she looks at him with concern.
Bertwald is bent almost double, clutching his head. Although Arturia can see his shoulders shaking, he is barely making a sound. Hesitantly, she reaches out to pat his shoulder. He gives no indication that he notices the contact. Instead, he rocks in place, sobbing quietly.
'What would Shirou do in this situation?' she thinks helplessly. 'Surely there must be some words of comfort to ease the loss of a loved one. Yet, all I have are the platitudes I offered the families of my knights, and for them, that was enough. However... there is no honor in death from illness, no service to the country. His lover is gone, and no words can change that.' She looks at the sobbing man beside her. 'This... is not something I can fix.'
Despite their physical proximity, Bertwald remains alone with his grief, and Arturia remains alone with her thoughts.
~~~CotD~~~
"Arthur! Arthur, come quick! Hurry!" Osthryth's panicked shout from outside the inn breaks Arturia's concentration. She leaps to her feet, spilling the papers from her lap. The man across the table from her jumps back with a startled oath, but Arturia has already turned away. She has just reached the door when Osthryth bursts through it, soaked to the skin. Arturia grabs her arm to get her attention, not waiting for the other woman to focus on her.
"What's wrong?" she demands.
"Ow!" Osthryth yelps and Arturia loosens her grip. "It's Sigbert. He collapsed while working! Arthur, come on!" She grabs Arturia's wrist and pulls her out the door, leaving the man she had been working for cursing behind her. Arturia does not even have time to brace herself before she enters the torrential downpour. She shakes off Osthryth's hand with the first step, passes her on the third, and is running out of the plaza before the woman behind her has half crossed it. The voice of the man whose work she is leaving behind fails to slow her steps.
Arturia ignores the water soaking through her clothes as she runs through the town and only thinks briefly of her fine waterproof cloak, left to dry by the fire. She has no further attention to spare for anything other than running. Running through the uneven streets is hazardous even in the best conditions. The pouring rain makes the footing even more treacherous, but she still runs as fast as she is able.
She skids to a stop in front of the door to Sigbert's home, and takes one deep breath to compose herself before knocking. 'He most likely just overworked himself again,' she reminds herself. 'He has not fully recovered from his illness this past winter, and his insistence on returning to work as soon as he can has only delayed his recovery.' She knocks once and opens the door without waiting for a reply.
The front of the house is empty, but Arturia can hear low voices from the back. She shakes the water off herself as best she can before proceeding further inside. She pushes aside the curtain separating the bedroom from the rest of the house, and sucks in a breath. Sigbert is motionless on his bed, covered in blankets, and Gode is slumped at his bedside. She steps into the bedroom, fearing that she is too late. She only has time to take in the strange discoloration of Sigbert's face and Gode's shallow breathing before a whisper from behind stops her.
"Arthur!" Arturia spins around. Eadwyn is slumped in a chair by the table, beckoning her away from the bedroom.
"Eadwyn!" Arturia matches his lowered voice, and hurries closer. "Is he..." She trails off, realizing it would be insensitive to ask Eadwyn if his father is dead. "Please, tell me what happened."
"He's not dead," the young man says hoarsely. "I wasn't here." His voice is thick with self-recrimination. "The first I heard about it was when Ceolwin showed up at our house. She said Father had fainted while working, and Mother sent her to fetch me. You know how he's been lately. I figured Mother just wanted me t'help keep him in bed. But Ceolwin said he'd been ravin' when she left, so I thought I might need help. I sent Osthryth t'get you since you're close and easy t'find." He rubs his temples.
"By the time I got here," Eadwyn continues, "Father was quiet, but he's so..." He shakes his head. "Mother's sick too; she fell asleep while takin' care of him. I left 'em to sleep in peace, but..." Eadwyn looks up, eyes bloodshot. "Arthur, I think Father's dyin'. I sent Ceolwin to my house. She shouldn't have t'see this. I'll stay here to help out."
He stops talking, and Arturia watches him with concern. The silence stretches out. Neither of them speaks for several minutes, although Eadwyn shifts uncomfortably under Arturia's steady gaze. Finally he sighs heavily. "Go back t'work, Arthur. There's nothing you can do here. If you see Osthryth, tell her I'll see her tomorrow."
Arturia nods sharply and turns to leave. She stops at the door. "If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to call on me." She pauses to wait for a response, but none is given. She braces herself and steps out into the rain.
~~~CotD~~~
Arturia stares into the darkness of her room, unable to sleep. Eadwyn's dismissal and her inability to help him weigh on her mind. 'It is just like back then. I do not know what to do when someone I care about is suffering.' She thinks despondently that it was easier when she was King. That the King would express his sympathies for the death in battle of sons, brothers, fathers, husbands or lovers was a great comfort to many people. Even though she had not the time to speak to the relatives of everyone who had perished while serving Britain under her banner, she had been able to express her sorrow and gratitude in a distant fashion.
But now, even though she can see that her words and presence offer some comfort, she is not satisfied. She feels that it is not enough. 'There must be more I can do.' However, no matter how she tries, she cannot think of anything. 'Am I still unable to comprehend the emotions of others?' Her tired mind latches onto this doubt. Now that she is thinking about it, she is haunted by her failures. 'Emma last summer, Bertwald that autumn, and now Eadwyn... Perhaps it is true, if I have so consistently failed to understand those closest to me... No! Even if all I can offer is the comfort of my presence, I will still do what I can. Tomorrow I will insist Eadwyn let me aid him. Sigbert may not be my father, but he welcomed me here and has been a friend to me in my time here. I do not know if he can be saved, but I will try. The town will survive without its scribe for a day or two.' Arturia closes her eyes and forcibly calms her mind. The sooner she sleeps, the more use she will be tomorrow.
~~~CotD~~~
A desperate banging on her door rouses Arturia. She wakes quickly and scrambles to her feet. The throbbing at her temples and the lack of light coming through the window tell her that it is earlier than usually rises.
"I'm coming!" she calls as roots through her clothing for a clean shirt. She dons it as she stumbles across the room, straightening it as she pulls open the door.
Arturia is surprised to see Ceolwin standing on the street outside her door, hand still raised to continue knocking.
"Ceolwin. What is wrong?" The possibility that nothing is wrong does not even occur to Arturia. Ceolwin does not normally knock on her door, certainly not as frantically as she had, and not before dawn. The younger girl looks at Arturia desperately.
"Help," Ceolwin murmurs, then collapses forward. Arturia stoops to catch her, noticing as she does so that the girl is pale and sweating. Arturia sets her down against the wall of her room and fills her wash basin with water from the pitcher in the corner, as far from the papers by the desk as it can get. "What happened?" she asks as she wipes the sweat from the girl's face with a moistened cloth.
"Osthryth didn't wake up this mornin'." Ceolwin coughs and hunches up, shivering. "I went to find Brother, but nobody answered the door. You're the first to answer." She squeezes Arturia's hand, and Arturia is worried to note that her skin feels uncomfortably hot to the touch. "...hurts, Arthur..."
Arturia searches for a solution as she brushes the sick girl's hair from her face. 'I could care for her, but she is certainly not the only one who is sick. She said no one else answered her knocking, and Osthryth seemed well last night.' She searches her memories and experiences, trying to recall anything about diseases that killed overnight, either in her own time or in the future. However, she finds no answer. ' I need to assess the spread of the illness.' Reaching a decision, Arturia gathers Ceolwin in her arms.
"I will take you to your brother. Please bear with it until then." With a grunt of effort, she stands, finding the girl to be a mostly limp burden. With growing unease, she carefully steps out of her quarters. She stops to close the door, but shakes her head. 'If things are as bad as they seem, the open door will make no difference.'
As Arturia walks through the town, she is struck by how quiet it is. 'Normally there would be people moving about and talking, audible from the street, and early risers going about their business.' She observes with mounting dread that there are no people about, and no signs of activity. When she reaches Sigbert's home, Arturia shifts Ceolwin's weight to her shoulder, wincing as the girl whimpers. She knocks firmly on the door with her free hand, but without much hope. When there is no response, she pushes the door. It does not budge. 'Barred,' she thinks with a grimace. Shifting her weight, she balances carefully on one leg, and kicks the door. It does not budge, and she rebalances herself. Arturia inhales slowly then kicks it again, releasing her energy explosively in a way she has never needed or wanted outside of the battlefield. There is a cracking noise from the door and a heavy thump from inside as the bar breaks and falls away. When she pushes now, the door swings open, pushing the pieces of the bar across the floor.
The first thing she sees as she steps inside is Eadwyn sprawled across the floor. Carefully, she lowers the girl in her arms to the floor. Arturia struggles to remain detached as she notes Ceolwin's terrible fever and the pain any movement seems to cause her. She reminds herself that given Eadwyn's apparent condition and the fact that Osthryth sickened overnight, it most likely already too late for Ceolwin. Although that knowledge saddens her, it reinforces her resolve to leave the girl.
Arturia kneels next to Eadwyn and lifts his arm, pressing her fingers to his wrist to check for a pulse. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief when she feels a faint throb. 'So he is still alive after all.' As she stands, the memory of another time when she held someone's wrist like this, although without taking their pulse, flits through her mind. 'Why am I remembering that now?' Arturia wonders. 'And why did I lie to Rin about that? There was no reason to be ashamed of reaffirming my contract with Shirou. Could it be I was attracted to him even then?' She shakes her head. 'More importantly, this isn't the time for that!'
Moving briskly, Arturia enters the bedroom where she last saw Sigbert and Gode. She freezes as soon as she pushes aside the curtain. There are two bodies laying side by side, their faces covered by their blankets. She pulls aside the blankets with distaste. As the King of Knights, she had more than her fill of exposure to corpses on the battlefield, but she never truly became accustomed to those that died of less violent means. Seeing the bodies of her friends lying there, their faces discolored and covered in sores, fills her with helpless anger.
A sound from the front draws Arturia's attention back to the living. A second moan has her rushing to Ceolwin's side. She kneels, uncertain of what to do. 'I wish to stay and care for her, but... She is unlikely to survive the day, and even if she does... How many others could I save by warning the surrounding villages and rallying them to the aid of the afflicted?' She lifts Ceolwin slightly and moves her away from the door to lie next to her brother. "I am sorry, Ceolwin." She stands and turns away from the two still living people in the room. "Forgive me for this, Eadwyn." She wipes the tears from her eyes before they can fall and steps out the door.
'It was never this difficult when I was king,' she thinks as she runs back toward her quarters. Now that she has decided on a course of action, there should be no room in her mind for hesitation. 'This course of action will surely save more lives, so why does it feel as though I am wrong?' She slows to a stop. 'First, I should confirm the status of this town.' Now that the sun is beginning to rise, Arturia finds the absence of other people on the street increasingly worrisome. She turns to the closest home and knocks firmly on the door.
"Hello?" A weak voice answers her knock from within. "Sebbi, is that you?"
"No, it is Arthur the scribe. May I enter?"
"Arthur?" There is no further response, and Arturia pulls the door open and enters the dwelling.
"Excuse me." There is nobody in the front, and she notes that the cookfire has not been lit.
"Are you alright?" she calls softly, and pauses for a reply before entering the bedroom. The light is dim, but she can make out two figures lying together on the bed. She approaches them, suppressing her discomfort at the intrusion.
"Are you alright?" she asks again. "I am sorry to-" she cuts off as she notices that one of the figures is lying completely motionless, and does not appear to be breathing. Carefully, she reaches out to check the temperature of the body. 'Cold.' The woman, still alive, looks up at Arturia with glazed eyes.
"Sebbi?" She lifts a hand weakly.
"I am sorry," Arturia answers quietly, taking the woman's hand in her own. It is hot to her touch. "If Sebbi is your husband, he has... left for a while. If you rest here, he will certainly return."
"Ah..." The woman collapses back, releasing Arturia's hand. "I'll wait.."
Arturia stands and backs carefully away from the bed. 'One dead, and one feverish and delusional, likely dying,' she thinks as she walks out of the house. 'Why did I lie to her? She is most likely dying. But she seemed to happy to hear that..." She pauses at the doorway to the bedroom. 'It is surely cruel to leave her there.' Arturia shakes her head. 'No, my time is better spent aiding those who can be saved than comforting the dying.' She crosses the street to the door opposite and knocks. There is no answer, but the door opens at her push.
"Please pardon my intrusion," she says quietly as she steps inside. The silence persists, and she hurries to the sleeping chamber at the back. She sighs with relief when she sees the chests of all the inhabitants, adults and children both, rising and falling steadily. After a moment of consideration, she steps inside and reaches for the shoulder of the nearest adult. The man startles awake at her touch.
"Who?" he mumbles, looking up at her blankly.
"Arthur. The scribe," she introduces herself quickly, before the man becomes hostile to a stranger in his bedroom.
"Arthur? What're ye doin' in my house?"
Arturia suppresses her irritation with the man's slow waking. "I am sorry to interrupt your sleep, but I must tell you something important. There is a plague in town. Do you understand?"
The man nods slowly, the sits up suddenly. Beside him, his wife begins to stir.
"It may be best if you took your family and left for a few days, if you can. If you cannot, stay at home as much as possible, and try to avoid contact with the infected." The man nods, and opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off.
"I have to go now," she says as she turns to leave.
'It seems this house has been spared so far,' Arturia thinks as she returns to the street. She refuse to think about the likely fate of young children in a town hit by disease.
Arturia jogs to the next house along the road, pleased to see that people are beginning to stir. The door is to the house is ajar when she reaches it, but she knocks anyway.
"Please excuse me," she says as she pulls the door the rest of the way open and walks in. The hearth is smoldering gently, and the front room is in disarray. Arturia rights a fallen chair as she walks through the room. She pulls aside the curtain separating the sleeping room from the rest of the house, and gags. A putrid odor assails her from the back room. She easily identifies the source of the smell as the man lying on the floor next to the bedding. He is nude, most likely having removed his clothing for comfort, and covered in oozing sores. She steps back, bumping into the entryway. To her horror, he stirs at the sound and moans feebly.
Arturia turns and flees, gasping for breath once she reaches the street. 'I have seen enough. I cannot save this town. The best I can do is to try to obtain assistance.' As soon as she has composed herself, she is running toward her quarters again. 'I will have to leave my armor behind for speed, but I should bring my sword, and Avalon, as well. I believe my old clothes and Avalon will be sufficient to command respect and obedience.' As she runs, she cannot help wondering, 'Will I ever return to this town?'
~~~CotD~~~
Arturia slows to a jog as she sights the outlying buildings of the small farming village to the west of Trekern. This is the closest settlement to the town of any size, and she believes it is her best chance to find immediate help for the sick people there. It has taken her most of the morning of hard running to get this far, and even if help leaves immediately, she knows it will not arrive until nearly dark. Despite that, she knows that leaving to find help and warn the surrounding villages is the right choice. 'One pair of hands could not have made as much difference in one day as many pairs will make tomorrow,' she affirms to herself.
Even before she enters the village, it is clear to her that something is wrong. The farms surrounding the hamlet are untended, and there is no smoke from cooking fires. She continues onward with a growing sense of foreboding, searching for some clue. Finally, as she nears the settlement proper, she can hear raised voices wailing with grief, and a cold knot of dread forms in her stomach, even as her mind protests. 'No! Not here, too!' Arturia forces herself to continue. She needs more information. This is the best chance she has to get it.
Arturia follows the sound of weeping, reasoning that whoever it is will be well enough to answer her questions if they are well enough to cry so loudly. The noise leads her toward a hovel a short walk off the road. As she rounds the building, she is confronted by a line of corpses laid out on the ground. 'About two dozen,' she estimates, relying on her experience with the aftermath of battle in order to evaluate the situation dispassionately. She looks around the village quickly. 'That is likely about half of the population dead. However, someone was healthy enough to bring the corpses out of the village.' She strides toward the end of the funerary line, and approaches the two people clinging to each other there.
A man and a woman kneel over the corpse of a child. Arturia cannot determine the gender of the child from the face, which is the only part visible, but she estimates the age to be no more than five years. She clears her throat to draw the attention of the people she presumes are the parents of the deceased, regretting what she must do but knowing it is necessary.
"I am sorry to intrude upon your grief," she says softly, "but I must have information, and you are the only people I have found who can provide it."
The couple looks up at her, but blankly. She kneels beside them to address them. "Please, tell me what has happened here."
"What happened 'ere?" The woman scoffs at Arturia. "Ain't it obvious? Everyone's dead or dyin'!" She gestures at the line of corpses behind her. "What more d'ye need t'know?" she asks harshly. "We sent a runner for help a week since, and now ye show up?"
"I am unaware of any request for aid," Arturia says apologetically. "I have come from Trekern hoping to find assistance for that town," she offers in explanation. "I did not realize the plague had come here, as well."
"We've no help t'offer you. Maybe if ye'd come sooner." The woman turns her back to Arturia.
"Can you not answer a few questions, that others may possibly be saved?" Arturia says softly. There is no response from the woman, and her husband turns his head away. "I cannot command you, but," Arturia swallows, preparing herself, "I ask in the name of King Arthur, will you assist me?"
The woman turns back to Arturia, her face hard, and shakes off her husband's restraining hand on her arm. "Oh, ye're here in the name of King Arthur, are ye? Where were ye when we were dyin', then?" she demands, her voice growing to a shout. "King Arthur is dead! T'way I see it, his country is soon t'follow. He'd never've let the Saxons live here, like King Mark's doin'! Arthur abandoned us, and this's what happened!"
Arturia lurches backward in shock. 'Is this... truly what the people think now?' she wonders, aghast. However, before she can follow that train of thought, the previously silent man pulls his wife backward and interrupts her.
"Sorry. She don't mean that. It's just..." He looks over his shoulder, and pulls his wife against him, rubbing her back. "How can we help you, m'lord?"
"Is that your entire village?" Arturia asks before she can stop herself.
"It ain't." The man answers this time, shaking his head, "there's a few others as fell sick and are laid up. Been three days now since th' last death. I figure anyone who ain't died of it yet ain't gonna." His voice is heavy with fatigue.
"I am sorry for your loss." Arturia offers the words out of habit, but finds that she truly means them. "Your wife said you sent for help a week ago, so... it takes about four days for the disease to run its course?"
"I s'pose," the man shrugs. "Can't say as we were countin'."
"I understand." Arturia rises to her feet, mind racing. 'Four days, to do this to a village? If I count from yesterday morning as the beginning, then by the time I could return, half the town would most likely be dead...!' The thought causes her vision to spin, and she sways on her feet.
"M'lord?" the village man says uncertainly.
"I must leave. I am sorry I cannot stay to help you, but I must determine the scope of this disease." She turns and begins to walk away. "Thank you for your assistance, and... good luck."
Arturia pauses when she reaches the road. One way will lead her back to Trekern, but she cannot find any hope that her sick friends will be alive when she returns if the progress of the disease here is indicative of its general progression. 'I should stay and help these people, as I should have stayed to help my friends,' she thinks, torn. 'My assistance here would be valuable.' But she cannot convince herself that the help she could give at this village would justify her decision to leave her friends behind to save others. Nor can she justify leaving behind the people that need her help here to return to friends who are likely dead. 'That only leaves one choice.'
With a heavy heart, she turns her back on her home of almost two years, and runs down the road in the direction of people she might still be able to save.
~~~CotD~~~
Arturia stumbles through the trees and undergrowth, ignoring the way branches tear at her clothes and hair. She cannot remember when she left the road, and she cannot remember how long she has been running through this forest. Even though it is dark, it is not the lack of light that causes her to stumble. Her vision is blurred by tears, and her heart is torn by grief. She has no destination in mind, and is driven only by a desire to escape that which lays behind her.
'Why?' she thinks. 'Was this the inevitable fate of Britain whether or not I became king? Could this disaster have been avoided if I had not fallen to Mordred in battle? Or was Britain doomed from the start, no matter who drew the sword from the stone?'
Behind her lay dead and dying villages filled with dead and dying people. She had run along the road toward the setting sun without slowing. Each time she saw buildings ahead of her, she hoped that maybe the plague had not reached this far. However, the scene she saw at the first village was repeated at each subsequent stop. Sometimes there were more survivors and more people who had not been struck, and sometimes there were fewer. If there were enough healthy people to manage it, the corpses were collected and prepared for burial, and those who lived voiced their grief. At some villages, there were simply not enough able-bodied survivors, and the corpses lay where they had fallen.
Each village she passed through was a wound that Avalon could not heal. There was no way for her to save those people. Each village that she passed reminded her that she would never see her friends again. Her friends that could not be saved, she left behind for the sake of saving others. The others that she left them behind for also could not be saved. Each corpse rebuked her for leaving her friends in their last moments. Each sick and dying person she could not save rent her heart. The bright sun and clear sky she ran under mocked the suffering she saw.
As the sun set, she continued to run along that road. Behind her, she left parents burying children, children burying parents, and spouses burying their lovers. At some point, the road must have ended, but still she continued to run. She ran onward into the night, trying to escape the tragedy behind her. Still, no matter how far or fast she ran, the tears would not stop.
'Why, then, was I king? For what purpose did I fight so many battles and make so many sacrifices?' she wonders. 'If this was the inevitable result, then what purpose did it have? If Britain was doomed to plague, it did not matter whether or not I drew Caliburn from the stone. It was all futile.'
Finally, she breaks through the trees. The ground at the edge of the forest drops away in a slope, but Arturia does not notice. She slips, but does not fall. The shock dispels the fog that has enveloped her mind, and she slows her pace. At the bottom of the hill, she comes to a stop beside a single tree that stands on the shore of the lake there. Everything stops here. There is nowhere else for her to run, and now that she has stopped, she does not think she can start again. Her feet ache, her legs are shaking, and she has no will to continue.
Instead, she sits and watches the tranquil water. There is no wind, and the surface of the lake is still. She sits against the tree and envies the stillness of the water.
'Surely,' she thinks desperately, pleadingly, 'surely this is enough.' The fatigue from the day weighs upon her, and she can no longer force her eyes to stay open. Arturia curls herself into a small depression at the base of the tree, clutching Avalon to her chest. 'There is nothing left for me here. Shirou...' She thinks of the boy she loves, who seems impossibly distant now.
"Shirou..." she mumbles as sleep claims her, voicing the clear wish of her heart, "I want to be with Shirou again..."
As she succumbs to her exhaustion and falls asleep, she does not see the gentle golden glow of Avalon envelop her body.
~~~Interlude 4-1~~~
The creaking sound of the shed door's rusted hinges wakes the red-haired boy from his sleep. The light that shines in accelerates the process, and his consciousness begins to return.
"Senpai, are you awake?"
He immediately recognizes the voice. It belongs to his kouhai, Sakura, who has been coming to take care of him again since the end of the Holy Grail War. Her presence here in the shed means that it must be time for breakfast. He reigns in his wandering thoughts and opens his eyes.
"Good morning, Senpai. It's almost time to wake up." Sakura is already kneeling next to him.
"Hm. I guess you're right. Morning, Sakura. Thanks for waking me up." He blinks up at her, trying to organize his thoughts.
"No, it's nothing you need to thank me for. I knew you would wake up properly, so I only did a needless thing." She smiles at him in apology.
"I see... Then why did you come to wake me up?" His mind is active enough to notice the discrepancy, but not yet awake enough to draw a useful conclusion.
"I wanted to wake you up today, so I woke up thirty minutes earlier than usual." He gets the feeling she is restraining laughter. "Today's a special day, you know?"
"-Oh." He recalls now, too late to save himself the embarrassment. "Sakura. I don't think I even need to ask, but Fuji-nee isn't here yet, right?" he asks with some trepidation.
"No," the response is prompt, "Fujimura-sensei is not here yet. Oh, but Illya-chan is already here."
The presence of Illyasviel von Einzbern without the teacher confirms the boy's fears.
"Crap." He realizes he will have to impose on his kouhai. "Sorry, Sakura, but can you take care of breakfast? I'll go and wake Fuji-nee up."
"Yes." She agrees happily. "Sorry for your troubles, Senpai."
He notes as he sits up that he is still dressed, and remembers that he had worked late the night before.
'That's good,' he thinks. 'I can go outside without having to change.'
"I'll be back in ten minutes," he addresses Sakura, "so I'll leave the rest to you."
"Yes, please do." Sakura accepts his request with a smile and stands gracefully, stepping away to give him space.
The boy named Emiya Shirou levers himself to his feet and leaves the shed that serves as his workspace, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes.
"Oh, Shirou's awake."
He refocuses his eyes and greets the white-haired girl in front of him.
"Yeah, I just woke up. I'm going to go wake Fuji-nee, so help Sakura out, will you?" He does not think this request will be a problem. Contrary to his expectation, Illya and Sakura get along well, and have become friends. Shirou pats Illya on the shoulder and heads past her toward the front entrance to his home.
"-I got beat." He hears her talking to herself behind him. He turns to watch. "I told you I'm going to wake Shirou up, Sakura!" Illya protests as to runs toward the shed.
Shirou smiles to himself as he continues to the entrance. Scenes like this one have become comfortably familiar, he thinks. When Illya refused to return to her country, he had asked Fujimura Taiga if Illya could stay with him. She refused of course, despite Illya's claim that they were really siblings. Instead, she offered to let Illya stay with her, but Taiga being Taiga, it was more like she forcefully took Illya in.
Since then, Illya has accompanied Taiga's breakfast and dinnertime assaults on the Emiya residence. Although they have been living together for two months, and seem to be getting along better... 'Their relationship has definitely improved.' Shirou thinks to himself with satisfaction as he steps through the gate. 'They've gone from fighting like strangers to fighting like siblings.'
As he heads down the road, he hears Sakura and Illya's voices coming over the wall when he passes the shed on the other side. Illya's relationship with Sakura has been much better than her relationship with Taiga, and it is a relief to Shirou that the two of them get along well. He had worried that they would not, because of their strongly differing personalities. He believes that Illya is responsible for much of Sakura's recovery since her brother died. He tries not to think about the fact that Illya is the one that killed him, and made her stop smiling. Although he does wonder sometimes if Illya is befriending Sakura as a form of penance, he does not think that sort of thing fits with her straightforward personality.
"Yeah. Sakura is able to laugh now." He dispels his darker thoughts, focusing instead on that fact, for which he can be unreservedly happy. 'That soft smile certainly suits her,' he thinks as he walks out of hearing range of the shed.
~~~CotD~~~
"Uwaah, you're mean, Illya-chan!" Taiga complains while she devours her breakfast. "I even gave you a special bonus to wake me up no matter what."
"It's only natural. I'll be late too if I wait for Taiga, and I worked enough for what I got paid for. If you want more out of me, you should raise the base pay and not just give me a special pay." The girl in question rejects Taiga's complaints with cold logic.
Taiga hums thoughtfully. "Why are you such a miser when you're getting paid from grandfather as well?" She asks, sounding like she honestly does not understand. "Everyone would hate you if you're stingy about money from such a young age."
"I don't care if I'm hated. I don't care what people beside the ones I like think of me." Illya deflects Taiga's attack... "And Taiga, pay me back the money I let you borrow. Your payday was five days ago, right?" ...and then counter-attacks viciously.
"-Eh? H-how do you know that!" Taiga reels from the blow. Illya scored a critical hit.
"I heard from Raiga. I can give you the details as well if you wish." Illya presses her advantage without hesitation, smilingly daringly. "You have until tomorrow to repay me. If you can't, I'll just take it away from your allowance."
Taiga gasps. "G-Grandfather told you even that!"
"Yes. We're together all afternoon," Illya responds. "Raiga praised me that I'm much cuter than Taiga."
Shirou winces.
"Uwaaah! What are you going to do about this, Shirou?" Taiga drags the innocent bystander into the war. "This girl's such a devil! She'll take over the Fujimura group if you let her be!"
Shirou feels he ought to reply, although he would rather scold Taiga for getting him involved than to help her against Illya, but something she said has caught his attention.
'Fuji-nee... You're still getting allowance at your age?' he thinks to himself, amazed. He puts the thought aside and focuses on defusing tensions so that breakfast can be concluded peacefully.
~~~CotD~~~
The chaos in the dining room ended as soon as Shirou stepped in. Normally, this should have made him happy, but it is such a rare occurrence that it makes him worry instead.
"See you, Shirou. You're going to be back early today, right? Then I'll be waiting here, so come home right away." Illya sees Shirou off with a cheerful smile.
"Yeah, I'll try. Take care while I'm gone."
"Hmph. You might as well live here, you idiot," Taiga pouts at Illya from behind Shirou, launching one last parting attack before she leaves.
"Yeah, yeah. You should get yourself together too. You can't cause Shirou trouble outside." Illya parries her thrust without even trying.
"Then I'll be going ahead, but don't walk slow and be late for school." Taiga ignores Illya and addresses Shirou. If it were anyone else, he would have applauded their maturity, but coming from Taiga it just seems like she is sulking childishly. Taiga mounts her motorcycle, and Shirou closes his eyes, unable to watch as Taiga rockets down the road.
After the sound of Taiga's motorcycle fades into the distance, Shirou stretches and takes a deep breath. Sakura already left for school to attend the archery club, and despite Taiga's flippant farewell, she was right. He will have to hurry if he does not want to be late.
It is important that he not be late today. Today is the school entrance ceremony, after all.
Shirou reigns in his wandering thoughts. "-Well." With that, he sets off, enjoying the spring weather.
~~~CotD~~~
Shirou reflects on the past two months as he walks down the hill, carefully thinking only of trivial things. Of course, it is impossible to avoid thinking in terms of "since Saber left," but he can distract himself by thinking that nothing important has happened since then. In a way, it is even true. The change of the seasons is the only event that compares in magnitude to that event in his life.
He thinks, if anything, that he has become a bit more mature, but he does not consider that a significant change. He is still pursuing his ideal of becoming a hero like his father Kiritsugu, although he has no illusions about his progress. He knows that he is still far from capable of being a hero, and maybe lacks the capacity to be a hero at all. After all, he was unable to save the person most important to him.
"Good morning, Emiya-kun." A familiar voice draws him from his thoughts, providing a welcome distraction. "It's unexpected to see you in the morning."
"Hey," he greets her cheerfully. "It sure is a good day today, Tohsaka." He raises his hand to greet her, and a thought occurs to him. "But is it really unexpected? We're barely missing each other recently." Now that he thinks about it, he has been encountering her here almost every morning for a while. "Well, I certainly didn't come across you too many times before."
"..."Come across" is it?" Rin's voice is threatening, matching her glare.
Shirou wonders what she is unhappy about. It is far too early in the morning, in his opinion, to be exuding such a dangerous aura. "Ah.' That thought reminds him. 'Tohsaka wasn't really a morning person, was she? Then possibly...'
"Tohsaka, did you change the time you leave your house?" he asks the glowering girl cautiously. "You came later before, right? You used to come at a time that wasn't too late or too early."
"That's not true." She denies it immediately. "I bet it's only coincidence that we didn't see each other until now. You knew, right? Our houses are in exactly opposite locations from this intersection. So if we get up and go down the hill, it's only natural that we meet here." And to support her denial, she provides a convenient explanation.
"Oh." Shirou decides to accepts it. "That's the first time I've heard that. I see, that would certainly-" and then his mind interjects his previous recollection. 'Tohsaka wasn't really a morning person.' For Tohsaka to arrive at the intersection at the same time as Shirou, she would have to get up at six, by his calculations. That is much earlier than he recalls her being comfortable with.
"Tohsaka, you're not sleepy?" he asks with honest concern.
"What do you mean by that?" she grumbles after a momentary hesitation. "I'm not sleepy, nor am I pushing myself. Why would you ask something like that?"
"Well, you weren't a morning person." Shirou steps into dangerous territory without thinking. "You'll unmask your true self if you go to school short on sleep. It'll be terrible if you fall asleep during class." He unerringly finds a land mine. "I bet you'll rage around with a face like an awakened demon if someone tries to wake you up." And vigorously stomps on the trigger. "Like, "I will kill all that disturb my sleep." That kind of thing."
"I-I won't do such a thing!" Rin splutters a denial. "I won't make such a mistake just by waking up thirty minutes early." In her haste to defend herself, she carelessly admits her previous lie.
"See. You did wake up early." Shirou pounces on the exposed weakness. Rin blushes and looks away.
"Geeze, quit worrying about when other people get up," Rin says, attempting to change the subject so obviously that even Shirou would notice. "If you have time to inquire about such boring things, just go to school!"
Shirou politely ignores the obvious subject change and resumes walking toward their school.
~~~CotD~~~
Shirou and Rin walk up the hill that leads to their school together, quietly enjoying the comfortable spring weather.
"Do you have work all this week?" Rin breaks the silence with a strange question. "...I won't complain since it's your time, but don't you get sick of that?" She follows it up with an equally strange excuse for asking. Shirou does not think Rin has ever straightforwardly expressed concern for his well-being in normal conversation.
"Huh?" He is taken aback by the question. "No, I got today off. I heard the archery club is holding a welcome party for the new members, so I'm thinking of going with Illya."
Rin makes an amazed sound. "You have some great guts. You must be a big shot if you're talking about taking Illya to school with an unconcerned face like that."
"Hm? Is that bad? I think it'll let Illya kill some time, and it should make her happy." Shirou does not understand Rin's objection. He knows that Illya often gets bored during the day, and she likes Sakura, so she should enjoy the opportunity.
"It is bad. It's definitely bad, but I guess I'll show up as well, then," Rin says, looking annoyed. "It won't be boring if Illya's going to be there, and most of all, I just can't leave her alone because it's too dangerous."
Shirou nods, relieved. He knows that it is Rin that understands Illya the most, not him or Sakura. Rin is the only one of the three of them that was raised properly as a magus, so she is the only one who can truly understand Illya's history. He thinks that's why Rin occasionally takes care of Illya. 'It would be good if she would teach her, too,' he thinks. 'Illya doesn't seem to understand what it means to hide one's nature as a magus.'
The conversation dies off again, and Shirou takes the opportunity to look around. The damage caused by the Holy Grail War has been almost completely restored. The Church sent a new priest after Kotomine died, and he has worked diligently to restore Fuyuki city to its former state. Although Rin has had some responsibilities as the second owner of Fuyuki, their lives are back to normal.
Some of the damage can never be fixed. People were killed. Some victims of the coma incidents caused by Caster's life force draining are just now waking up, and a few of the victims of Rider's Blood Fort will never fully recover. There are certainly things that were lost and will never return. However, the wounds caused, not just to the town, but to the people's hearts, are slowly healing. Because of this, Shirou thinks he should be happy with the state of things.
"-But it was unexpected." Rin's voice is so quiet that he wonders if she is talking to herself. Her tone is serious and she is looking down at the town, away from him.
"Hm? What was unexpected?"
"... Yeah." She does not answer his question, but looks at him with a concerned expression that seems out of place. "I thought you would be more depressed. I thought you wouldn't be able to get over it for a while."
Shirou understands immediately that Rin is talking about Saber. Even though they have not talked about her at all in the two months since the end of the Holy Grail war, there is nothing else Rin could possibly be talking about.
"Yeah. That's what I thought, too. I was about to go insane just thinking about the future." It may be an understatement. At that time, Shirou had been unable to think of anything but how he had failed to save Saber, and had gone through the following weeks in a daze. He had wondered how he could possibly live, day after day, with the knowledge that he had failed to save the girl he loved. But despite his internal turmoil he had managed to put on a mask and go about his daily life as though nothing were wrong, for the sake of the people around him. Eventually, the mask started to become reality.
"But it turns out you didn't change after that. You didn't even get depressed; you were fine the next day." Rin gives him a serious look. "At that time, I wondered if you were really alright. I can't put this into words well, but you had the atmosphere of a guy that would die in an accident the next day."
"What is that? Why would I easily die when I'm doing well?" He protests to keep Rin from worrying.
"Things like that happen. When people accomplish their lifelong goals by mistake, they can suddenly die." Rin says something absurd with a straight face. "The instant they think, "Oh, I don't need to live anymore," cars hit them while running red lights or they fall down stairs."
Setting aside Rin's tortured metaphor, Shirou thinks that clearly does not apply to him. He did not accomplish his lifelong goal. He failed. He did get depressed. He certainly did not think that he no longer needed to live. Rather, he wondered how he could possibly repay Saber for all that she had done for him, even if it took his entire life.
"So I was worried about that." Rin continues talking with no regard for Shirou's thoughts. "At times like that, people around you feel more relief if you get really depressed." Shirou feels like kicking himself. 'I was afraid they'd be worried if he acted depressed, but instead they worried because I didn't? Wait a minute.'
"Tohsaka. Are you saying you would have comforted me if I was depressed?" Shirou asks sarcastically.
"Of course not," Rin replies immediately, sounding surprised at his question. "I would have kicked you and told you to get over it. I'm just saying that it's a bit disappointing since I couldn't do that." She looks away.
Shirou smiles to himself. He has enough experience with Rin to know that she is covering her honest concern for him under the pretense of wanting to pick on him. When she looks away, pretending to scowl in displeasure in order to hide her blush, he cannot help but laugh.
"What? Was it strange?" She looks at him again, this time with a real scowl.
"No, no," he waves his hands in denial, "it was a strict line that fit you will, so I feel relieved." It is no lie. Her clumsily hidden concern for him is a relief, although he does wonder why she waited so long to say anything if she was worried.
"Then you don't have any regrets?" Rin asks in a casual tone. "With Saber gone and all?" She does not look at him, but watches the clouds while she waits for his answer.
"No. Probably..." He shakes his head. "I don't have any regrets." He says it, and realizes with some surprise that it is true. 'Things lost will never return,' he thinks. 'Of course I have no regrets. There was nothing I forgot to tell her. Perhaps I could have tried harder to keep her here, but we both protected our ideals desperately until the very end. That's enough. It has to be enough. Since she lived her life fully, living admirably until the very end, I can't remain lost in reminiscences forever.'
"Oh, then you've concluded this internally already." Rin sounds strangely satisfied with his answer. "So that's why you're not depressed or losing yourself in memories."
"Yeah. But I still dream about it. I'll recall her for the rest of my life. My memory will fade away someday, and I'll forget about her voice and her gestures. But still- I'll remember that this thing occurred, and that I loved Saber."
Rin does not say anything, but only smiles at him. Although he does not know why, she looks happy and starts to walk as if she is skipping.
"What's going on, Tohsaka?" he asks, confused. He does not understand how this somber discussion could have made her happy. "Did something happen to make you hurry?"
"It's nothing. I just want to get to school quickly," Rin says with a bright smile. "So let's hurry! I'll leave you behind if you're slow!" She turns away from him and starts running up the hill.
"What is she doing?" Shirou grumbles to himself as his throws his bag over his shoulder to follow her. "Pushing herself when she's not a morning person..."
As he runs, he wonders why she is in a hurry. It is only 7:30, too early for club activities. Dismissing his thoughts with a shrug, he runs up the hill toward the school. It is the start of a new school year and a time for new beginnings, he thinks. In order to celebrate it properly, he will have to let go of the past, even though the traces will never go away, even though the pain in his heart every time he thinks of her makes him want to cry.
He looks up at the bright blue sky as he runs. In the bright sunlight of a spring morning, it feels close enough to touch, but he knows he cannot grasp it even if he reaches out. He is reminded of the times he looked up at the stars during the war.
'The stars I could not reach, and the wishes that could not be granted. There is nothing we were able to leave behind for each other. Therefore, my memories will certainly disappear some day.' He lets out a long sigh as he runs. 'But still... even if it will not reach her, there should be something that will remain in our hearts. There is nothing that remains in our hands, but we lived at the same time and looked up at the same sky. If I remember that, I can believe that we can be together even if we are far apart.'
He accepts that some things will go away, and that some things will not. Because of that, he keeps running. As long as continues to aim for his distant goal, there may come a day when he will be able to reach it. That is the only way he can think of to repay Saber for the things she has left him, and to honor the things that are lost forever.
~~~interlude out~~~
I would like to make a few brief notes in closing. First, information on the disease featured in this chapter was primarily based on an article titled "The Yellow Plague" by J. F. D. Shrewsbury. It was published in 1949 in the Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences. Some limited creative license was taken.
Second, I'd like to apologize one last time to any experts or dedicated hobbyists of British and Arthurian history. Melding the two with Fate/stay night's history and creating something that is functional was difficult, and some sacrifices had to be made.