Rewritten 5/29/22
Rewritten 6/23/22 for plot/thematic reasons
Hello all, and welcome to Three Crowns. After running into numerous issues with my previous story, Fate/Foundation, I decided to write a new story with a similar premise.
Do note, that this will be substantially different from the first story. Canon's going off the rails really quickly for one thing, plus the whole "two viewpoints per chapter" thing won't be happening here. When it was essentially making me write two to three chapters per chapter, it was just unsustainable, especially since I'm trying to hold myself to a better standard of quality for this new story.
Like always, feedback and comments are always appreciated, as are questions, as long as they aren't spoilers.
I hope you enjoy.
Shirou I
"Uuuuuuugh…"
When Shirou came to his senses, it felt like he was tearing apart at the seams. His heart, his head, and all four of his limbs pulsed with heavy, molten heat, like his body was a too-small water pipe channeling liquid lead it was never meant to handle. When the fog cleared from his brain, it also revealed that a bed of jagged rocks was burrowing into his back, trying to release that pressure from the outside.
Shirou Emiya wasn't a stranger to pain. That being said, he was a stranger to waking up on the ground, feeling like his veins were stuffed full of molten metal. The grimacing redhead painfully rolled over and pried his eyes open. "Ugh. What happened?"
His surroundings slowly came into focus, and the first thing that appeared was a field of white stone—definitely not his house. And not his shed either, it was way too bright, though the idea jogged his memory…
Keep it—no, KEEP IT, you self-destructive fool!
Shirou bolted upright. Oh...Oh! Right, we went to Ryuudou Temple to rescue Illya, and destroyed the Holy Grail. Kotomine stabbed me a lot, and he almost turned me to soup, but I stopped him, and saved the city. And after that…
"I love you, Saber."
With a look full of pain and determination, the blonde vanished in a puff of sparks.
A tornado of blue light swallowed him…
Shirou's heart sank in his chest like a block of iron. Oh, she's gone.
He knew it was inevitable from the moment they learned about the Holy Grail, but he hadn't come to terms with it—events after their fateful visit to the church passed too quickly. Shirou had saved Fuyuki, but not the girl he loved, and now, she was lost forever…
He firmly tightened his jaw, slapped his cheeks, and winced when his tender skin protested. Gah! Okay, that's enough moping. Saber wouldn't want your pity, and she wouldn't want you to lay here feeling sorry for yourself either…hmm, but where is 'here' anyways?
Glancing around, he found himself in a shallow hole the size of his living room. Its walls were unnaturally even, almost smooth, and showed a clear transition from topsoil to the crumbly, stark white bedrock lying beneath it, like a giant spoon had scooped up the earth and dumped him on the bottom. The air reeked of ozone, and when he breathed in, a heady, invigorating feeling coursed through his body, but made the godawful pounding return with a vengeance.
His gut twisted. Ugh. This is definitely not the temple. The air back there had been painful to breathe, but more in a "cursed tomb mixed with a tire fire" sort of way, and while he was no geologist, Mount Enzou didn't have white stone. Whatever the blue light had been, it moved him somewhere else. And wasn't that unsettling? Spatial transport was magecraft bordering on sorcery—who would waste it on him? Standing up, he dusted himself off, and peered over the hole's rim.
A heap of enormous, crumbling, blue-gray stone pillars were jumbled together on a grassy field, like some titan had wrecked his building blocks and left them here to rot. Some leaned drunkenly on their neighbors, but even more had toppled over and ripped up the earth. A set of pillars just out of arm's reach were violently smashed to rubble, leaving piles of gravel and a pair of shattered stumps poking out of the ground.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Maybe I should call this a crater. It looks like a bomb went off in the middle of this…structure? Monument? Fuyuki doesn't have anything like this—I'm even further from home than I thought. Cautiously, he pulled himself over the crater's rim, and started to clamber over a fallen pillar, but something appeared that made him freeze halfway across.
Lying on the grass behind the pillar was a group of three stones—two long uprights connected by a horizontal piece, like a doorway, or a torii gate. The comparison seemed appropriate, because he'd seen something just like it in his world history textbook, and he knew it belonged in an ancient, sacred place.
Shirou's lungs stopped working. He couldn't breathe…hell, he couldn't move a single muscle, not when all he could think was, oh gods, I BLEW UP STONEHENGE! Shirou whirled around—
A ring of rubble—no, a ring of ancient stones that had stood for thousands of years toppled away from the blast crater he just escaped. Beyond the wreckage was a cloudless sky and rolling hills the color of emeralds totally foreign to Fuyuki, but the beautiful scenery was secondary to the utter disaster right before his eyes.
His heart leapt in his throat. Dammit, dammit, dammit! He cursed, and yanked at his hair. Then he looked down at himself, and spotted another huge problem.
Shirou's clothing was torn half to shreds, and covered in barely-dried blood from the wounds Kotomine inflicted in their final battle. They were healed thanks to Avalon, but for once, that was actually a problem.
His blood ran cold. Oh gods…I'm covered in blood that can't be mine, I'm in a foreign country, and I'm standing in the ruins of a national treasure. If someone sees me, they'll lock me up and throw away the key! He shuddered violently, picturing a future full of steel bars and orange jumpsuits screaming towards him at the speed of a police car. I don't want to be locked up! I've barely saved anyone! Springing off the boulder, he dashed around the monument's shattered remnants, but when the grass began to slope beneath his feet, he stopped and stared.
Beyond the wreckage, it was suddenly clear that the whole region was deserted. No cars, no tourists, and thankfully, no police charging in to arrest him. And oddly enough, no roads either. A white blob of something was crossing a distant hilltop, but other than that remote sign of life, he was the only thinking being for miles around.
Something about the scene brought a prickle of unease…but it was quickly overpowered by relief. No one's here…so no one's seen me, or the monument—there's still a chance! If I get away and hide, and maybe get some clean clothes, no one will ever know that I was here. Huh, but where to go? Shirou wrinkled his brow. If I'm not too far off, those hills are to the south. And to the north… He turned to look over his shoulder.
A wide-open expanse of verdant plains laid before him like a green carpet. The landscape was nearly flat, featureless…except for a pillar of smoke that lofted from some point on the horizon.
He grimaced. Fine, not going that way. I'll get caught for sure. Mind made up, Shirou whirled around, and jogged towards the hills. He was in a sticky situation, but it was still salvageable. Once he looked respectable, he could find a phone, call Old Man Raiga, and get on the first flight back to Fuyuki. It would earn him a lot of awkward questions, but with a little luck, he'd be home by the end of the week.
XXX
Breathing heavily, the aged European man trudged after his herd of sheep, pausing to prod a straggler with his staff. "Brysiwch, gymrawd!"
It jolted, and scampered after the others, bleating angrily.
"Ehehe…" The chuckling shepherd trailed behind it, and once it vanished over the hill, he followed his flock while they began their descent. Soon, the hillside was deserted once again.
Gasping for breath, Shirou popped up behind a nearby boulder, and wiped his hands on his jeans. Dammit, that was close. Heading this way was a mistake—I'm getting nowhere at this rate!
Oh, he hadn't been caught yet, but close calls happened more and more often as he journeyed further into the hills. It looked like he'd stumbled onto some kind of ranch, because the only inhabitants were sheep, sheep, and even more sheep, plus a few riders on horseback to add variety. It was the only explanation that made an ounce of sense, because paved roads hadn't made an appearance yet, and the closest equivalents were a handful of rugged dirt paths twisting around the hills. Wasn't England supposed to be highly urbanized? Or was that just London? Maybe Stonehenge was in a remote, rural area, and people hiked over the hills to get there—he didn't know that much about the place.
His shoulders slumped. Well, it's too late to turn back, the only choice is to keep going. I guess the nearest settlement can't be that far off anyways—I've been hiking for miles, they wouldn't waste too much space on sheep-ranching, would they? He peeked left and right, and noting that the coast was clear, he shaded his eyes and peered at the distant horizon. Then he sighed tiredly. Ugh, more hills…a couple of bushes here and there, those will make good cover if a shepherd passes by…huh, is that a cobbled road? I thought they built those in cities, not in the countryside… Then his gaze followed the road to a pass leading through the hills.
Beyond the pass, the road meandered down a steep slope, until it leveled out at the edge of a wide-open grassland that stretched towards the south, but not to the west—a patch of dark green peeked through the hills, contrasting with the light green grass and white outcrops.
It was a forest!
Shirou's eyes gleamed. If I can make those woods, I can finally lie down and get some rest. All this diving behind stray boulders is murder on my nerves—maybe when it's nighttime, I won't have to hide as much. Glancing around one last time, and finding nothing worrisome, he sprinted down the slope.
His pace rapidly ate up the distance, and for the first time since he woke in a foreign country, Shirou allowed himself a little optimism. Those trees couldn't be more than a couple miles off, he'd reach them in minutes, then shade and safety!
Not too long after he had that thought, he crossed the road—definitely cobblestones, weird—and entered the pass.
And that was where everything went downhill, no pun intended.
"Stopiwch yno!"
Shirou flinched, and barely saved himself from tumbling down the hill by pinwheeling his arms like mad. He hurriedly glanced backwards. "What the…"
Back on the road he'd just crossed stood a strangely-dressed European man, glaring hard at his back. He wore a pot helmet, a leather chest-piece, and steel greaves, and clutched a spear with a leaf-shaped point. Completing the picture of a soldier out of time, a war horn, made from an actual horn, hung from a strap at his waist.
He blinked. What is he wearing? Did I stumble into a historical reenactment? And what was that he said? My English is pretty bad, but that's definitely not English. Is he a foreigner too?
But then he remembered—he was supposed to be hiding, not questioning other's fashion choices.
Meanwhile, the European man looked like he'd seen a ghost. Fumbling at his belt, he snatched up his horn, and blew hard, sending a deafening blast echoing over the hills. "Rydych chi'n farw, llysnafedd barbaraidd!" He snarled, and brandished his spear.
His blood turned to ice. Oh no, that can't be good news—I need to lose him, fast. He whipped around, and bolted.
The weird foreigner hurled insults at his back, but he ignored him, and kept his eyes glued on the trees. By the time the hillside flattened out, more voices had joined in, but he kept running. Then halfway across the field, hoofbeats joined the growing racket.
Shirou's heart hammered against his ribs, but he held onto hope. I can still lose them. I just need to reach the woods—they can't chase me through the trees. But ordinary muscle power won't be enough, I can't outrun a horse… The ache that he'd discovered came from his circuits erupted when he smashed the trigger in his head.
Turquoise lines raced down his legs, strengthening them beyond human limits. The riders' furious screams morphed into startled shouts…then he took off like a rocket.
The wind rushed past, stinging his eyes and making his ruined shirt flap like a bloody sail. Grass blurred beneath his feet, lightning fast—too fast!
He goggled at his legs. What the hell is this!?
Unfortunately, he never got an answer, because a dip in the ground snagged his foot. Shirou threw up his arms, and sacrificed the skin on his hands to turn a brutal face-plant into a dizzying cartwheel that bounced him across the ground. His vision whirled, and impacts struck his knee, his face, his arm—
CRACK
"Guh!"
He curled up in a ball, but too late for his left arm, which suddenly bent in one too many places.
His painful journey came to an end when he landed in a battered heap a hundred yards from the trees.
Shirou hissed painfully. Ugh, Tohsaka would be laughing her butt off now. I can't even run right with magecraft!
The thunder of hoofbeats coming closer snatched away his attention.
Heart hammering, Shirou scrambled upright, and cradled his arm to his chest.
The spearmen were out of sight, but a pack of horsemen in helmets and chainmail galloped across the plains. Half a dozen spearpoints glinted in the afternoon sunlight—and the first was flying right at him!
He blanched. Oh, hell. Shirou lunged right, and barely dodged a spear thrown at his head.
Its owner swore, and slapped his thigh. "Ffyc! Amgylchynwch ef!"
His friends fanned out, then they started to circle, sending probing thrusts with their spears.
Shirou twisted around a second blow, and a third, but then the fourth horseman swung his spear like a baseball bat and clipped his left shoulder. He spasmed, and recoiled from the pain—right into the path of the fifth rider's spear shaft.
His eyes widened. Oh, sh—
A sharp blow left him seeing stars, then darkness took him.
XXX
Drip…drip…drip…
Water fell from the ceiling into the shallow puddle that filled the far corner of his dimly-lit cell, doing a poor job of drowning out the muffled squeaks coming from that area. Not a good sign for the place's living conditions, but then, that might be a feature. With nothing but four stone walls, a dirt floor, a heavy, wooden door, and a barred window no bigger than his head casting feeble rays of light, it wasn't like they were worried about keeping him healthy. He'd learned that the hard way, when the beatings started…
A tear rolled down his cheek. I guess it doesn't matter if they're mad about Stonehenge. I'm locked in a cell, and I'm never going home again.
With all the excitement of dodging shepherds and running away from horsemen, he hadn't had time to reflect on the strange turn of events. What brought him here? Why didn't any roads lead to Stonehenge? Why was the place full of sheep? Who were these people with spears and helmets chasing him? Shirou's first guess had been that he spooked a reenactment club with his appearance, but when he woke up shackled to a wall, and some stone-faced creep with a club started beating him black and blue while screaming gibberish, everything clicked.
He was in the past…in medieval Europe…and it looked like he'd arrived in the middle of a plague.
Shuddering, he huddled against the wall. That man looked like he was ready to hurl, and not because of what he was doing. Dammit, what if he gave it to me? He hurriedly scrubbed himself—but then he snorted. "You're in a leaky, rat-infested dungeon, and you're scared of germs? You should worry about burning at the stake."
His heart skipped a beat. Yeah, forget about never seeing home again. Forget about never sharing a meal with Taiga, or Sakura, or Rin, or Illya ever again. Forget about never being clean again, he was in the Dark Ages. Europeans burned people like him back in those days—in these days! He was dead meat! Maybe he could have explained away the reinforced running as strong legs and a trick of the light, but any plans he had of passing as a simple foreigner fell apart when he woke up with his arm fixed—that was twice now that Avalon caused trouble by helping him! Why was it working anyways? Saber was—
Shirou's breath hitched, but he shook his head. Forget about that, I need to get out of here. There has to be some way to escape. I survived Heracles, and stood up to All the World's Evils, a bunch of guys with spears that haven't bathed in a year won't kill me! Sharpening his eyes, Shirou scanned the cell for any sign of a way out.
The stone walls hadn't sprouted any holes since he last checked, and the window hadn't gotten any bigger. He didn't see himself tunneling through the floor…which left the door. Sure, it was sturdy, but it was made of wood—it was the obvious weak point.
His heart leapt. I bet I can break that down. My reinforcement's been weirdly strong lately, I should be able to reshape these shackles and slip out, then bust down the door! He lifted his hands to do just that, but paused when faint voices came from the other side of the door.
"Beth yw'r uffern yw ef?"
"Dwi ddim yn gwybod. Rhyw fath o Affricanaidd? Yn bendant nid sacson."
"A ddylem ni ei ryddhau?"
"Ffyc na! Roedd wedi'I orchuddio a gwaed. Mae'n rhaid ei fod wedi lladd rhywun. Gadewch iddo bydru."
Shirou slumped against the wall. Right. Even if I can break the door down, there's soldiers on the other side. And I bet that next time, they won't go for a knockout blow.
Like the cell was mocking his mood, the light began to dim, until his only source of illumination, was a dim orange square pierced by three black lines.
His eyes flashed, and he clenched his fists. No…no! I refuse to give up that easy. I'll get out of here—no matter what it takes! Never mind that I'm stuck in a violent past. It just means that even more people have to be saved. They'll come to take me out of here at some point…I just need to come up with a plan. Shirou Emiya isn't done protecting people, and I swear I'll escape this place the first chance I get!