Chapter 13: Saber's Circumstances

He was invincible.

No matter what fight he got into, whether it was a minor skirmish or a great battle, he would always make it out unscathed. Time and time again, he led his troops into war and never tasted defeat. No enemy could wound him, or even lay a finger on him—any enemy that tried would be impaled by his sword.

Rumor had it that he was a war god in the form of an ageless human boy, sent to the physical world to aid Britain in its time of need. He heard these rumors, but he paid them no mind. He also heard many of his men praise his extraordinary combat skills, and he modestly shrugged that off as well. Indeed, his skill with a blade was impressive, but arrogance would only hinder him in a fight.

He stood in the midst of a large field, the dead, bleeding bodies of enemy Saxons strewed around him. The grisly sight of a warzone would be enough to nauseate or even traumatize an ordinary civilian, but he was well acquainted with bloodshed and did not so much as flinch.

"Victory," he started, loud enough for his men to hear, "is ours!"

He raised his sword as the battlefield erupted in great, roaring cheers.

Long live Camelot.

Long live Britain.

Long live King Arthur.

Shira slowly blinked awake to see the dining room's ceiling above her. She sat up with a sleepy grunt, rubbing her eyes. Saber hadn't regained consciousness in the entire time it had taken her to carry him home. Luckily, Rin had not gone to bed yet, and she took the blond to his room after about fifteen seconds of listening to Shira's panicked rambling.

The redhead quickly straightened up as Rin chose that moment to walk into the room. "How's Saber?" she asked at once, all lingering grogginess forgotten.

"Judging from his condition," Rin replied, sitting down at the table, "I doubt he's going to be waking up or getting better any time soon. Would you mind telling me what happened?"

A new wave of panic had seized Shira when Rin said Saber wasn't getting better, but she forced it down in order to answer the question. "Saber killed Rider. He used his Noble Phantasm to do it, and he collapsed after it was over."

"Hmm. He used his Noble Phantasm, huh?" Rin shook herself out of her musings, looking at Shira with a serious expression on her face. "All right, I'm gonna be nice and not grill you on the specifics of Saber's power. As it is, you have a much bigger problem to worry about right now."

"And what's that?" Shira asked.

"The thought should've at least crossed your mind," Rin said. "If you don't think of something soon, Saber is going to disappear."

That's what I was afraid of, Shira thought, her insides clenching.

Rin continued when Shira remained silent. "Saber's mana is nearly gone; he has hardly anything left. I have no idea what Noble Phantasm he used tonight, but whatever it is, it all but depleted the magical energy he has. Servants can't exist in this world without mana, so if Saber's runs out, he'll fade away."

"But," Shira tried, clinging to any shred of optimism she could find, "he's been in fights before and managed to come out okay. He told me he'd be able to recover his strength if he just slept."

"That's because he started this War with an inordinate amount of mana," Rin pointed out. "Keep this in perspective; it's not like he doesn't have any mana left. He should be able to create enough to maintain his physical form."

"Then he'll be okay, right? Right?" Shira repeated a little forcefully when Rin didn't respond right away.

"Yes, he'll be okay," Rin conceded, "but that's about it. You're not replenishing Saber's mana, so the next time there's a battle, he's going to have to fight in a very compromising condition. If he uses his Noble Phantasm, he'll disappear for sure."

"All right, fine; so all he has to do is not use it again." Please tell me it's that simple; please tell me it's that simple...

But Rin was quick to crush Shira's hopes. "No Servant can survive the Holy Grail War without their Noble Phantasm. There are only two ways a Servant can recover their mana: The first is to have their Master replenish it; the second involves forcing the Servant to get mana on their own."

Shira, who had been staring at her lap for the last few seconds, now snapped her gaze to Rin, her eyes blazing. "Do you mean what Rider tried to do?" she demanded. "Are you saying Saber should get his strength back by ripping the souls out of innocent people?" Furious, she pounded her fist on the table. "He'd never agree to do that!"

Rin nodded calmly. "Yeah, he probably wouldn't." She paused expectantly. "Well? Can you think of any other alternative in getting Saber the mana he needs?"

"No," Shira admitted, her anger cooling. "I'm not able to properly support Saber; if I was, his mana surely would've been replenished by now."

God, I'm the worst Master ever. The very basics of having a Servant, and I can't even do that right!

"Let's look at this another way." Rin's voice broke Shira out of her self-deprecation. "When you summoned Saber, a contract was formed between the two of you. No matter how weak it is, as long as the contract is still in effect, you may have a chance here."

The black-haired girl fell silent momentarily, then exhaled sharply. "Look, Shira, I'm not going to sugarcoat this. As ugly as it is, if you want to save Saber, you're going to have to use a Command Seal and force him to attack someone."

"You want me to kill people." It wasn't a question. Shira looked down at the two remaining Command Seals on her hand, feeling sick.

"It's the only way to avoid the worst case scenario," Rin insisted. "You'll have to do it fast, before you're attacked by another Servant."

Shira wanted to protest. She wanted to tell Rin that she couldn't bring herself to kill an innocent person, even if it ensured Saber's continued survival. She wanted to say that she would find a way to replenish Saber's mana without resorting to murder.

But her voice seemed to have deserted her, and it wasn't long before Rin left the dining room, officially ending the conversation.

Well, Saber, it looks like we're in serious trouble, Shira thought as she sat by her Servant's futon, watching him sleep. His expression was calm enough, but a small frown marred his features. Was the lack of sufficient mana causing him pain?

Somehow, that wouldn't be surprising.

Shira mentally played and replayed what Rin had told her. Clearly, her only options were either letting Saber die or making Saber attack innocent people by using a Command Seal. Neither option was desirable.

I wouldn't want Saber to die even if this War wasn't going on. But...killing people? Saber would never forgive me if I made him do that—heck, I would never forgive me.

Shira let out a sigh. Was compromising both their ideals—both their morals—the only way to save Saber?

She didn't know how long she stayed there, looking over the knight as he slept, not tearing her eyes away from him for fear he'd be gone the next time she looked. Eventually, though, she finally succumbed to sleep.

He had been born and raised in a time of war and chaos. The Saxons were invading and pillaging the kingdom, hoping to overthrow the British royal family. When Arthur, the son of King Uther Pendragon, was born, he was smuggled out of the castle and sent to live with a poor but loyal knight to ensure his safety.

For the first fifteen years of his life, Arthur lived in a humble village with his foster family, training from an early age to become a knight. He had never been told of the sorcerer Merlin's prophecy stating he would become Britain's greatest King and his country's savior—there was no need to, for Arthur had long sworn to bear a sword in the desire to save the dying kingdom.

Shortly after Uther's death, the day of appointing the next king arrived. Lords and knights from all over Britain gathered at the place of selection in Camelot, believing that the new king would be determined through a jousting tournament.

But all that was there was a sword stuck in a stone, along with the hooded figure of Merlin.

"Whosoever pulleth this sword from this stone shall be the rightful King of all Britain," the sorcerer intoned in a deep, booming voice.

Many knights eagerly attempted to pull the fine blade from its stone, but it was all in vain; the sword did not budge. Considering pulling out the sword to be a waste of time, the knights decided to joust for the kingship.

Since Arthur was the newly appointed squire of his foster brother, he was not permitted to compete. As such, none of the knights took any notice as he lingered by the sword, staring at it thoughtfully. After a few minutes of contemplation, he walked closer to the sword and reached out to grab it.

"Before you attempt this, Arthur," Merlin cautioned, "I want you to give great thought in regards to what you will be committing to. Once you take Caliburn in hand, you will no longer be free to live as a human."

"I know." The boy, still not even a fully grown adult, said this so calmly, so simply, one could be forgiven for assuming he had no fears about what being a king meant.

But to say Arthur was without fear would be a lie. All his life, he had been told that a king was not allowed to be human, that a king must sacrifice of himself for the good of his country. A king must think of the needs of his subjects long before giving a single thought to his own wants or happiness. A king must rule with his head, never with his heart.

It was a daunting task. Was Arthur willing to live as a king, as an ideal, rather than the boy he was? If he were truly honest with himself, he would admit to not wanting to bear the burden of being a monarch. He didn't even feel worthy of such a responsibility.

But this wasn't about his desires. This was about his duty.

"I have come here to free this sword of my own volition."

If he could protect the people, if he could save Britain, then any sacrifices he made would be well worth it.

He took hold of Caliburn's hilt, slowly and easily pulling the sword out of the stone. Caliburn was raised into the air, shining brilliantly in the sun's light, its new wielder looking on with a solemn gaze.

The reign of Arthur Pendragon, King of Knights, had begun.

The next time Shira woke up, sunlight was pouring into the window of Saber's room, temporarily blinding her.

What a strange dream, she thought vaguely, blinking rapidly until her eyes had adjusted to the morning's brightness. Saber had been in her dream, but she had never seen the events depicted in it before in her life. Was it even possible for someone to dream of something they had no knowledge of?

And that wasn't even the first time. Shira suddenly remembered the dream she'd had while dozing off last night. Saber had been fighting in some major battle, as strong and relentless as ever. Maybe these Saber-specific dreams were just her mind's way of coping with the fact that the knight was currently in danger of dying?

Of course, that didn't explain why the sword in the dreams wasn't the same sword Saber used during his final confrontation with Rider (even if the two were very similar in design: white blade with a blue and gold hilt), but she decided to chalk it up to her subconscious being weird.

Shira let her gaze wander to Saber. The morning light might have granted him an ethereal look if not for the small, tense grimace on his face. His head unconsciously turned to face the redhead, and he made a noise of obvious discomfort.

She crawled over to Saber's side, wiping his sweaty brow with a rag that had been beside his pillow.

"Just try to sleep some more, okay, Saber?" Shira said softly, trying to smile encouragingly despite the fact that he wasn't awake to see it. "You're gonna be all right; you'll get your strength back soon, I promise."

Even now, Shira so desperately wanted to believe that all Saber needed was rest in order to regain his mana. That way, there would be no need for him to kill anyone. If he just slept, he would get better; she'd be there when he woke up and chide him for scaring her half to death and willingly accept the apology he'd give and...and...

Uh-huh, sure, a mental voice said nastily, and maybe there really is a race of tap-dancing rhinos living on the moon.

The twang of bowstrings caught Shira's attention shortly after she finally left Saber's room and went into the hallway. Since she didn't really feel up to making breakfast at the moment, she decided to see where the noise was coming from.

She headed outside and was rather unsurprised to see Archer standing in the middle of the yard, apparently in the middle of archery practice—without using any arrows. From what Shira could see, the older woman was only pulling at the strings of a bow.

Archer's mouth pulled into a frown once she noticed the redhead standing on the porch. "What do you want, girl?" she asked irritably, lowering her bow. "I won't answer questions, even about archery."

"Whatever." Shira scowled. "I'm not interested in your stupid bow; I just wanted to see what you were up to."

"I'm checking the perimeter," Archer answered, her voice cool. "The injuries I received from Saber have finally healed. I expect that means this alliance will be ending sooner or later."

Shira pursed her lips and looked away. She was bursting to say that her alliance with Rin wouldn't end just because Archer happened to make a full recovery, but she had no doubt that the red-clad woman would simply dismiss her words. What was much more troubling was the reminder that, one way or another, her and Rin's partnership would end; as aggravating as the older girl could be, Shira found that she didn't want to see her as an enemy.

"Rin told me what happened to Saber," Archer continued, rudely interrupting Shira's train of thought. "A Servant with a Master who can't replenish their mana has no chance of surviving. He knew this from the beginning."

"Shut up!" Shira glared. "I'm not letting Saber disappear!"

Archer continued to regard her coolly. "Must I spell it out for you? Saber knew that if he used his Noble Phantasm, he would disappear. He probably intended to never unleash it, so there's only one reason why he would do such a thing despite knowing the outcome: Saber chose to protect you rather than protect himself."

"You sure know a lot about Saber's motives, considering you weren't even there when he used his Noble Phantasm," Shira remarked, suspicious.

The white-haired woman paused, although her expression remained unchanged. "As I said, I heard it from Rin."

Having nothing to say to that, Shira decided it was best if she walked away.

It wasn't long before Shira found herself walking to the park. Just moping around the estate didn't sound very appealing to her, and she figured the fresh, cold air would do her some good. Maybe she'd be able to come up with a solution to Saber's problem.

But after several minutes of sitting on the park's bench, the only two things Shira had to show for it were goose bumps on her arms and no ideas. No matter how she looked at it, no matter how many times she turned over the situation in her head, she could think of no other way to replenish Saber's mana. If what Rin told her was true—and there was no reason for it to be false—the only way for Saber to recover was to force him to drain someone's mana.

The only problem with that plan was the fact that attacking an innocent bystander was wrong, regardless of how good Shira's intentions were. The ends simply did not justify the means. On the other hand, if she did nothing, Saber would disappear, and that was something she couldn't allow to happen.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't, Shira thought, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

"I didn't expect you to be here."

Shira looked up at the familiar, childlike voice.

"Oh, Ilya," she greeted, though it was without much enthusiasm.

"Good to see you, Shira." The little girl smiled, walking closer. "Is something wrong? You seem upset."

"Did you come here by yourself again?" Shira mentally shook herself, looking away. I don't have time for this. "Wait, don't answer that. I'm sorry, Ilya, but I can't play with you today."

"Saber's about to fade away, isn't he?"

Shira took note of the slight maliciousness in Ilya's voice as her gaze snapped back to her. Was she now dealing with Ilya the Master, not Ilya the innocent girl?

But as quick as a wink, Ilya reverted back to her sweet tone. "Shira, the reason Rider's Master got away is because you're always so nice." She giggled. "When you beat somebody, you just gotta kill them and be done with it."

"Hey, don't say stuff like—wait a minute," Shira interrupted herself, her brain registering exactly what Ilya had said, "were you up on that building last night, too?"

"Yep," Ilya answered cheerfully, "but I was inside the building, watching from the sidelines."

Shira abruptly gasped as she saw Ilya's red eyes glow. Less than a second later, the muscles in her body stiffened of their own accord; when she tried to move, she found that she couldn't.

"I-Ilya..." the redhead stammered, "w-what are you...?"

"Wow, you're already paralyzed?" Ilya asked, amused. "I didn't think I'd be able to catch you this easily. You don't have any defenses at all, Shira."

No...move...move, damn it! But no matter how much Shira tried to move her arms and legs, her body wouldn't budge. In fact, the more she tried to resist whatever spell Ilya was performing—Mystic Eyes, she thought it was called—the more paralyzed her body seemed to become.

"Don't move; it's only a waste of time," Ilya said. "Pretty soon, you won't be able to talk, either."

By now, Shira was almost completely numb. Her eyes grew heavy, and Ilya's voice was becoming less clear.

"But that's fine by me; I don't feel like talking, anyway."

"Are you...going to kill me?" Shira managed to force out.

"Saber's going to be gone soon, so let's just get this over with. Nighty night, Shira."

The last thing Shira saw before blacking out was the sight of Ilya's red eyes shining triumphantly.

In the darkness surrounding her, all she could see was a sword. It was the same sword she had spent a month dreaming about, the same sword that her Servant held in her two most recent dreams. The white blade contained a hint of shining gold, with letters of a language she didn't know decorated along the blade's length; gold also intertwined with the blue color of the hilt, and she could just make out a tiny red jewel near the pommel.

The sword was so beautiful. It was meant solely for the King of Knights, but she still wished to hold it if she could. Unfortunately, such a thing could only be possible in her dreams; the least she could do was imagine what it would feel like to actually wield that sword.

Yes...she could imagine it, couldn't she? But magic like reinforcement and structural grasping would be of no use. How could she strengthen or perceive something that didn't truly exist? She would have to use a more complicated magecraft. There was a name for it, but...she couldn't remember...What was it...?

When Shira finally came to (the numbness in her body was still present, but not nearly as overwhelming as before), she found herself sitting in a chair in an unfamiliar place. The walls were carved with intricate designs, and the plush carpet looked soft enough for one to sink their toes into. There was a neatly made four-poster bed with a golden bedspread and a matching canopy sitting to the right, and to the left was a fireplace that was both decorative and functional.

In short, the room wasn't just fancy enough to belong in a mansion or an estate—it was fancy enough to belong in a castle.

How'd I get here? Shira thought quizzically. The last thing she remembered was going to the park, then she'd encountered Ilya—

Ilya! That's right! It was starting to come back; Ilya had paralyzed her, so she must have brought her here, too...wherever "here" was. The sunlight streaming in from the window was an orange color, so she'd been here for a few hours at the very least.

Shira tried to get up, but something stopped her from getting very far. When she tried turning her head to look behind her, she could see out of the corner of her eye that her hands were bound by rope; looking down at the carpet confirmed that rope was also binding her feet.

Despite the fact that her body wasn't entirely back to normal, Shira started to squirm against the ropes. She had to get out of here, and fast; she had to get back home, back to Saber, before he could—

The door opened at that moment, and Shira ceased struggling as Ilya stepped into the room.

"So," Ilya chirped, "you finally decided to wake up." She closed the door and walked over to Shira. "How are you feeling? You should be able to talk again by now."

"Oh, I'm feeling just peachy," Shira said sarcastically. "I'm lucid enough to realize that you've gone and made me your prisoner."

Ilya's eyes narrowed. "What are you so mad about? Captured enemies are supposed to be thrown in the dungeon, but I decided to make an exception for you and put you in my room instead." She smiled as if that would make the situation okay.

Her room? So I'm in that big house she told me about. "Why did you even bring me here?" Shira demanded. "If you're going to kill me, you could've easily done that at the park."

"What are you talking about?" Ilya seemed genuinely confused. "I don't want to kill you, Shira. Sure, I'm gonna kill the other Masters, but you're special." She beamed expectantly. "So why not join me and become my Servant?"

All Shira could do was gape at Ilya, marveling at the absurdity of her suggestion. "What the hell, Ilya?!" she exclaimed once she'd found her voice, not caring that she'd just cursed in front of a little girl.

"All you'd have to do is protect me," Ilya said, completely unfazed by the expletive, "and I won't ever have to kill you. What do you say?"

"Come on; you know that's crazy," Shira protested.

But Ilya just shook her head. "No, it's not. Once Saber's gone, there's no way you can win a fight. And if you can't win, why should you be a Master?"

Shira grunted. Why does everyone keep saying Saber's going to disappear like it's a concrete fact?! "You're wrong, Ilya. Saber's not going anywhere."

A hint of a smirk crossed Ilya's lips. "Even if he doesn't fade away, he'll easily be killed in the shape he's in. You're better off staying here."

"You can keep asking all you want; I'm not—!" Shira began heatedly.

Ilya raised her hand to silence the redhead. "Don't you get it, Shira? You're nothing more than a bird in a cage, and I'm the one who decides whether you live or die. Besides," she tittered, the innocent sound at odds with her cool tone, "I've been waiting ten years for this. It wouldn't be very fun if I just killed you right now. I'll ask you once more time: Be my Servant."

The real question could be seen glittering in Ilya's eyes: Did Shira want to live or die?

There was only one answer to give.

"I'm sorry, Ilya," Shira said, "but I'm not teaming up with you. I have Saber as my Servant, and as long as he's still around, I'm going to keep being a Master."

Shira watched as a crestfallen expression appeared on Ilya's face. For a few seconds, she wondered if the little girl might cry, but Ilya's red eyes soon filled with frigid resentment.

"I see. So you're going to betray me, too." Her voice had become just as cold as her eyes. As she continued speaking, she stepped over to the door. "I've been turning a blind eye to you lately, but not anymore."

"What are you going to do, Ilya?" Shira questioned, ill at ease.

Ilya turned to face her with a cruel little smile. "I'm going to kill Saber and Rin. You won't like that, right?"

Ice flooded Shira's veins. "No, Ilya! Leave them out of this!"

"Leave them out of this?" Ilya repeated, amused. "You should've thought of that before turning me down. I'll kill Rin and Saber, then I'll come back to kill you."

"If you want to hate me, fine," Shira said, "but there's no reason for you to kill Saber and Tohsaka!"

"Shira, I can't go around letting the other participants live. This is the Holy Grail War, remember?"

"Damn it, Ilya!" Shira burst out. "Don't talk about killing people like it's nothing!" What kind of messed-up childhood does this girl have?!

"But it's not that big of a deal," Ilya said dismissively. "In case you didn't already know this, I've already killed one Master."

Shira's stomach churned. "You did?"

"Yep. It was last night."

Matou, the redhead realized suddenly. If Ilya was in the building last night, then that means—

"It was kind of unexpected," Ilya continued casually. "I didn't plan it or anything. I thought for sure that you were going to kill him, but when you didn't..."

Her voice trailed off, but Shira didn't have to hear the rest of the sentence. So Shinji was dead then, doubtlessly slaughtered by Berserker. Getting killed by a Servant as brutal as Ilya's would surely be anything but painless. It wasn't too surprising when Shira felt a twinge of pity; yes, she hadn't liked Shinji, and the world was probably better off without someone like him, but that was no reason to want him dead.

"I hope you're not upset." Ilya's voice broke Shira out of her thoughts. "I only killed him because you didn't. To be honest, I feel bad whenever I steal prey from someone else." She giggled as though it were a joke. "I'll be back soon. Try to escape if you want, but it'll just be a waste of time."

And with that, Ilya walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, ignoring Shira's angry demands to come back.

Once she was alone, Shira struggled against the ropes with renewed vigor, but it was only after about half a minute that she was forced to stop. Her body was no longer numb, but her limbs felt like lead. Damn it. Ilya's Mystic Eyes must've really done a number on me.

Okay; obviously, the mana Ilya had used to paralyze Shira was still in her system. Therefore, if she could remove the foreign mana, she'd be able to move to her satisfaction again.

Shira took a quick breath, closing her eyes. "Trace, on."

Her magic circuits flipped on.

"Basic structure, established."

Mana—her own mana—began flowing at once.

"Components, determined."

Her mana's speed increased, determined to flush out Ilya's mana from her body. She started trembling; the mana was going faster and faster; she tried to control it—

Shira let out a small cry as she suddenly lurched forward in her chair, coughing up some blood. All right... she thought shakily, I think I can move again, at least...Don't worry, Saber, I'm coming! Just keep yourself alive, you hear me?

And even though she doubted Saber could hear her, she wanted to believe he had anyway.

Author's Note: Yay! I've finally gotten to the dream sequences! Guys, do you realize how happy this makes me? :D :D :D

In summary, Shira starts strolling down Saber's Memory Lane, Saber needs mana soon or he'll go bye bye and Shira angsts about it, Shira actually has a fantasy about her and Saber acting like a married couple, Archer might as well have a sign that says, "I'm a future Shira. Fear me," and Ilya and Shira engage in The Glorious War of Sisterly Rivalry...or something like that.