A/N: Sorry for the lack of length, really not feeiing the best...
Don't mind me, just making a point here and spreading the love around with my updates.
As ever, we're following the Ember's Rule here. That's no joke. Really, it isn't. If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Poof! Gone! Every bit of feedback helps. Reviews are the fuel which keeps me writing in these crazy times. With my tight schedule, I simply don't have time to write a story folks don't like. Without them, my inspiration cannot take wing and I can't write a word. So by all means, speak up!
Alright then, I think I've kept you waiting long enough! As ever, I own no references. Nope! not a wit or a one!
And yes! BIG REFERENCE with the title card! I'm referring to the soundtrack from Babylonia, of course.
So to paraphrase a popular saying...clench your teeth. Because here...we...go.
"I'm sorry for this. Really, I am. I take no pleasure in your death. But...
Sometimes for the dream to live on, the dreamer must die."
Why you filthy little, traitor...
~?
Hero's Mission (Interlude of Mordred)
"CLARENT!"
Mordred screamed. She roared as she had never howled before. Clarent swept over her head, bleeding crimson mana into a grief-stricken sigh. All her rage, all her wrath, all her sadness and sorrow went into a single strike. Her helmet flew free, exposing her bloodied face to the elements, and her snarl to the world. Kill her. She had to kill her. Everything would go into this final
"EX!"
Not three yards away, her enemy mirrored the motion. The very picture of poise, she raised her blade overhead. Always so calm. Always so in control. Always a pawn. Damn her. Damn her to hell. This wasn't Father. This was a fake. A facsimile. Father had never been like this, cold perhaps, but never a slave to the whims of some stupid Grail...the same Grail that had taken Berserker away. Her eyes flashed. Maybe she wasn't a fake; maybe she'd just sold her soul for the wish. Who knew? Not her.
It helped to think of her as an impostor; it made her easier to kill
There was only one path forward now; the only way out, through. Through Father, through the enemy servants, through everything.
"DROP DEAD!"! the word tore out of her in a rasp. "You damn dirty fake! BLOOD ARTHUR!"
Saber's blade slammed down to match her.
"CALIBUR!"
Riot red plasma clashed with a wave of pure golden light and became a flowing pillar of amber to pierce the clouds. Mordred grit her teeth and pushed on, uncaring as cracks scrawled across her armor. Her arms trembled. A thick line of blood ran down her rose. Still she refused to yield. She would fight. She would rage. What other choice did she have? To stop now was akin to death; she would be slain or converted. Neither sounded terribly appealing. She could only assume that was the fate of the Black Faction. No way was she going out like that. Not a chance!
And then. Quite suddenly. Pain.
Wrapped up in her wrath, Mordred didn't see the moment father's blast overpowered hers; but she felt it all the same. Instinct saved her; she twisted her hips and threw herself aside at the last instant before the rush of holy light could swam up over Claren't and devour her its entirety. Her split second decision saved her arm and leg.
Not so the rest of her. Momentum still had its day.
Her feet were ripped from the earth and then she was twisting, tumbling, crashing through building upon building as the backlash of the blast raked her over the coals. She struck the ground and bounced once, gasped as her wounds reopened, then caught herself on a crumbling wall.
"Damnit!" She righted herself quickly; planted Clarent in the ruined street and used it to lever herself upright again. "This ain't over! I can still...!"
She made it to one knee before the shadow fell over her.
"Yield, Ser Mordred." a glistening blade kissed her neck. "...cease this futile endeavor. Join us, or die with honor."
Her brow drew down in a scowl. Honor. Such a funny word. Knights were supposed to be all about that, right? Kings, even more so.
But this...?
"Remember when I said I wanted to be like you?"
...yes?"
"Changed my mind." She raised her head and spat blood onto her Father's boot. "I'd rather die."
"So be it. Perish."
Someone shoved her aside at the last instant; leaving Excalibur to slash empty air. Mordred glimpse a worn black cloak, then a streak of gold caught the naked edge -how?!- wrenching it down, leaving it to slam into the ground. A booted foot stomped down upon it, entrapping the blade for all of a moment. It was enough. It struck Father across the chest, and blurred by. Saber looked down. Balked now, as she beheld a chain of smoking paper tags fused to her breastplate. Her eyes widened.
BOOM!
The explosion that followed as nothing short of spectacular; even at this distance it completely eclipsed Mordred's vision. It flung her away like a doll made of straw. And yer there was no pain. Strong arms caught her at the last, lowering her to the ground as one might a small child. She blinked once, trying to discern the cloaked figure, but the shadows of his cowl hid his face.
.
..
...until he yanked it back.
"You did good," a familiar voice drawled as he gazed down at her. "Let us handle the rest, eh?
She did a double take. "Zombie?!"
...I see that nickname persists, even across classes."
Mordred's jaw came unhinged. Eh...?"His face was the same. He looked exactly like her Berserker, but she knew he couldn't be. His outfit was all wrong; orange and black armor, over which he'd thrown a pale blue half-cape tied to his right shoulder. There was a black ribbon wrapped around his right wrist. Like some kind of grand favor from a lady of old.
Why the hell did Berserker look like a night? No, this wasn't him.
She tried to speak, only to wince as her body failed her. "You're not him...are ya?"
"Nope." he wagged a finger at her. "Pretender." "You know, I've always been good at that Pretending!" he spread his arms wide, grinning from ear to ear. "So when the call came...well... Of course we got involved.
A blink. "We...?"
"Shh." he held up another finger. "Its a surprise."
"Fiend!" Father staggered out of the smoke, wasted and gasping for air. "You don't fight with honor!"
Nope." his lips curled up as he gazed at her scorched armor. "Honor gets you killed. Speaking of which, Berserker sends his regards~!
Excalibur flicked out. "Yield. This is your only warning."
A lone finger rose.
"Then you shall die like the rest."
"No," Pretender tilted his head. "I won't. Look out behind you."
Saber brandished her holy blade with a snarl. "I shall not fall for such a ruse!"
A blade slammed through her back and burst out her chest, spattering them in blood.
Artoria didn't have time to react. The strike was instantaneous, the betrayal so complete, so wholly unexpected, that she scarcely had time to call out, much less defend herself. She'd only barely begun to comprehend the danger-here own imminent peril-before something tore forth from their chest.
Red spattered her vision as the blow struck her from behind. She froze, transfixed on the spot.
Mordred flinched at the sight. It was a mortal wound, a great strike that tore and through Saber's body like no other, staining the street a ghastly crimson. Still, she couldn't believe it. Her face twisted in a rictus of surprise, then revulsion as she staggered, slumping to a knee. She looked back, eyes wide.
"Why...you...filthy...traitor...
...I'm sorry, sister." pale hands came up to cup her cheek. "Sometimes for the dream to live on, the dreamer must die."
Those hands closed around her neck and twisted. Mordred closed her eyes at the last instant; as such, she didn't see the moment Father died. But she heard the awful crack that followed; the dull sound of an armored body striking the floor. Only then did she dare open them again.
The woman -Father's killer!- was different.
All wrapped in black silk with a dark crown atop her head, she was the very picture of bloody poise. A veil hid her face, but as she looked on that too was peeled aside to reveal a pale visage. Bright eyes gazed back at her, framed by ashen hair and a smile bordering on sheer euphoria.
Mordred blinked. "Now wait, just a second! What's that witch doing here?!"
No, that wasn't quite right. She was different than the hag she'd glimpsed in her dream; for her existence had been supplanted by another. This was Morgan Le Fay...and yet, not Morgan. Younger. Wilder. The dark bow binding her pale hair was all too familiar. She was an aberration. Something that should not -could not- exist in this era. An aberration. And yet she did.
Aqua orbs swept past her and alighted upon Pretender. Widened. "Husband!"
Pretender sighed. "Here we go." The blond in question raised a hand. "Hey, honey."
Morgan didn't move. She blurred.
Casting Saber's dying form aside, she vaulted forward and slammed into him.
"There you are, there you are, there you are!" She nuzzled his chest like a madwoman, all but pressing herself up against him. "I knew you'd be here! To hell with the grail! Let's run away together!"
Mordred blinked.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
"What the actual hell...?"
A/N: Didn't see that coming, did you?
To clarify, this "Morgan" and "Pretender!Naruto" hail from a story I never got around to writing.
A Most Unlikely Pretender. Or in others words, Naruto worms his way into Lostbelt 6, wins Morgan's heart and she falls for him. FALLS HARD.
They're a pair and were summoned together. The very MOMENT Morgan learned of him...yeah, Artoria wasn't surviving.
So here we are. Some may live. Some may die. Won't say who, save that we're on the path to the to the true ending foiks...and its gonna be one helluva race to the finish.
Thanks for joining me on this wild ride, and I hope to entertain you all for many more yet to come.
As ever, reviews keep me alive. I literally. Cannot. Write. Without them.
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly?
Still, no previews this time!
We're in the endgame!
...oh, who am I kidding.
(Preview)
"Why won't you die?!"
Did you think we forgot about you, Shiro?"
Kill the masters! Without them, the Servants will cease to exist!"
"You are no god of mine!" Atalanta turned her head and spat. "I reject you!"
Artermis smile grew thin. "You're so silly, Atalanta. Take that back...
R&R~!
~Nz.
