Lord, Lord, Lord, open thine hand to thy son, filled with glory and grace, that I might drink of thy splendor. Oh, my God, receive me in thy bosom, for I hunger for thee. I have gone all my life without feeling thy touch, and thou hast hidden thy Face from thy servant, and I am about to shrivel up and die.
Thou hast sacrificed thine own Son for me, but when I wish to sacrifice myself for thee, thou refusest mine offering! Am I so unwanted before thee, like a diseased carrion offered on the Holy Altar?
Hast thou already condemned thy servant to eternal damnation, too unworthy even to exist in thy presence? Were Calvin and his ilk correct, are some of us destined for righteousness, and some for evil?
I do not wish to believe this, but it is impossible to deny the facts. My heart is pointed in one way, and though those of all other men be as opposite to it, I must follow the example set by Abraham, thy loyal favourite in those days, and stand on this side of the river.
If I need help withstanding the rocks thrown by the men on the other side, I shall turn to thee, my God, the God of my Father, the Womb of my Soul.
For thine are the power, and the glory, and the beauty and the blood, forever and ever.
Amen.
Kirei lay in bed, crying. He showed a brave face to Gilgamesh, though he knew not why. Gilgamesh could see right through him, and showed him what lay inside himself, but there was a difference between knowing it and being it.
He felt the urge to play the role that he had been reared to play, even though it conflicted with his new way of life. He still, in his heart, wished he could find a way to reconcile his native faith with the new revelations he'd been shown by the King of Uruk.
Gilgamesh mocked him for it, asking him why he felt the need to cling to the obviously inferior ideologies of mongrels, and Kirei wished he could answer.
But, despite what Calvin said, men were formed of multiple pieces. It was not only the soul, which, as Kirei himself demonstrated, could be both impeccable or very, very peccable. There were also experiences. He remembered Claudia, after all. While she did not give him the change to his nature that she wanted to, she was at least able to open his heart to something that he had not before known.
He learned that he wanted to kill her.
He then realized that he had wanted to kill so many others.
His father, his mother, his boyhood friends.
Every one of them, their bodies screamed at him, shouting that he must rip them limb from limb and watch them suffer, and then use his Cursecraft to reanimate them and mutilate them, over and over and over and over and over.
While some part of him had obviously known this about itself – nothing can exist in the mind without it being aware of it in some capacity, by definition – the sudden shock of learning it consciously almost sent him into a coma.
He had overheard his father talking to Tokiomi before this Holy Grail ritual began, saying that he needed some "time to recuperate, and a task to set his mind to after his wife's death."
What a foolish old man. He knew nothing, not then, nor ever, about his son.
He disgusted Kirei, and beyond merely his desire to make music with bloodcurdling death rattles, he bore a special desire to do this to his father.
But the cognitive dissonance was too great, between the man he wanted to be, a loving, slavish servant of Christ, and the man he was. He felt like he was personally addressed by the Fourth Evangelist, as a member of the Synagogue of Satan, of the accursed Pharisaical spawn of the Devil, and he knew now that he would never obtain his desperately needed mirage on the road to Damascus.
Because the apparition, the Holy Spirit that he had sought to give him salvation from that fate, was now subverted, cruelly, and Kirei appreciated the beauty in this development in his life as if he were a spectator of a tragedy. Because the Spirit that had come to him was not Holy, but Heroic – though, if it came as an artifact of the Holy Grail's power, was it not perforce Holy too? Or could a sacred vessel bring evil into the world, much as the incorruptible Andrea Zilli Kotomine, his mother, brought this son who only wishes to destroy into the world? As the Lord said, look not to the trees, but to their fruit – and this Heroic spirit was more like Satan, tempting him.
But Satan wanted to turn the Christ away from his true nature and mission, whereas Gilgamesh is only showing me what lies in my own soul.
This conflict is too great within me, between the me that lies inside trying to get out, and the me that looks inside. I know which one is false, and I know which I wish to be false, but their falsities are like fog in the mirror that I use to look at myself. When I perform my morning ablutions, my eyes fixate on the form in the glass, and they wonder whether the glass shows the form, or the silver behind the glass does.
Does the mirror show what is really me? Or does it show something deeper? We know that man is but a thin film of an ego, a membrane on top of an egg, that looks without to the world of external phenomena, and within to the world of the soul's vicissitudes. And what we see reflected is not the true item, neither when we look outward nor inward; we see only what that thin film can perceive through its highly specialized, but infinitely imperfect lenses.
And Kirei's had been developed in childhood and adolescence to fit a very specific purpose, that of moulding him into the ideal Executioner for the Church, and officer of the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. And so, quite frankly, he no longer trusted his own lenses of perception to even tell him what was true or not.
Not in the external world of phenomena, since those didn't really matter. Whom did it bother if the sky was blue, or red, or green? No one, really, and Kirei never cared about phenomena. He was a man who saw only what was within. He saw what was within his parishioners, those few times he heard Confession, and he had seen the evil that men do, confessed with tears, and every time he wished he could only encourage the faithful to strike down those chains binding them to sin, for as the Lord said, the wages of sin is Death, and as the Apostle said, the Law is what bears sin. He wanted to teach his flock to worship the Lord in joy and rejoicing, and that the only purpose of the Passion of the Christ was to free man from the sins that had held them down.
But no one would listen to him. Not even his Father, supposedly so much wiser than he in doctrinal matters, could see this simple point. Kirei had felt as if everyone in the Church was overlooking the simple meaning of the New Testament, and this was another source of guilt for him, for he felt as if he could not possibly know the Lord's Will better than did the Holy Church.
But, of course, they had all been wrong! Each and every one of them! It gladdened his heart now, now that he could admit it to himself, to see all those poor sheep lost in the mires of their own sins, watching them suffer forever! For he was greater than they, he had been led to enlightenment, and the lens that he now saw with had been cleaned; he had surpassed the Apostle, for he now saw through a glass, but not darkly!
For instead of the lens upon which he could not rely, the one damaged and cracked and soiled through the years – nay, decades – of misinformation and dogmata, he now had the clarity of vision imparted to the Ancient of Days, the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, the man created by God to lead the human race, the inferior beasts of this world!
And yet, there was still, that infinitesimal, grain of doubt within him. He knew very well that this was merely an exchange of Faith, from the Church to the Golden King, and this fact did bother him somewhat. What if the faith he had in his new self, in his new teacher, was lost? What if even this assurance of a clear lens with which to view himself, was itself tainted? What if there was no way to verify this, if there were certain hypotheses which were consistent with logic and the available data, and yet their negations were as well?
Gödel said so, after all.
And it was at times like these that, though he was violently loath to admit it, that Kirei required some sort of aid from another.
"Servant," he said, nonchalantly.
The familiar golden sparks appeared around him, and he felt his chest tighten the way it always did when his new teacher appeared. It was like his body was thirsting for something new that it had never felt, while at the same time his mind told him there was something wrong with this new thing.
As usual, he left it to his soul to break the tie, and as usual, his soul chose what could give him a way to the end, the guide to the Royal Road of life, that would bring it to what it always wanted to be.
Archer appeared, laid down on the ground.
"Gilgamesh, why do you stay on the floor like that?"
"Silly Kirei," said the beautiful mouth of wisdom. "Sometimes, even the highest being needs to bring himself down to the Earth, to taste the delectable fruits of beauty that she holds within her depths, zealously guarded from all wandering and lustful eyes, but not from the indomitable Will which resides in the hearts of those who are worthy of her virginity."
Kirei pondered this. He often wasn't entirely sure how to interpret Gilgamesh's words, but he felt that he could feel the gist of them within himself, like they awakened something prelinguistic in him. "Archer, do you have an answer for me? You see how I struggle."
"Ah, Kirei," Gilgamesh said, his eyes closed, and legs crossed. "You know as well as I do that there are no answers in my throat for you, only within yourself. But you are correct in searching outside of yourself, as long as you understand that others are to be used merely as mirrors for your own soul. I think, at a time like this, we need a suitable subject."
"Is there any such?"
Gilgamesh opened his eyes. "Why, yes, it so happens a stage has been set for us. We needn't even do any work; we need only step in and have some fun."
He stood up, and bade Kirei stand with him. He touched Kirei's hair, and Kirei felt his body stiffen, as the hands went over the crown of his head. He felt the hands pulling his head against the Servant's chest, and Kirei did not know why, but Archer appeared to be trying to comfort him.
Gilgamesh whispered, "Just cry, Kirei, get it out of your system."
Kirei did so, and felt no catharsis, only wonder at the scene.
"See, Kirei?" said Gilgamesh softly, while caressing him. "You're made differently than other men – you do not enjoy crying yourself."
He paused, and Kirei stopped crying. Kirei lifted his face to meet Gilgamesh's, and he saw a smile brimming on the King's face, red eyes twinkling with joy.
"Let's continue our play."
When Ciel opened her eyes, she found herself in the room that used to be occupied by the Fathers. The Council-Room, they called it, since that was where they would all confer amongst themselves to decide her fate, every day.
She was lying facedown, on her belly, on a hard surface. She tried lifting her head, to see if there was anyone in the room, but that question was quickly answered by the force on the back of her neck, pushing it back down. The familiar feel of the fingers on her hair came back to her, and she realized that she wasn't alone here.
The fingers curled in her hair, and she felt the callouses on them brushing against her scalp. There was the sensation of sickness in her stomach, as she knew what came next.
It was the same thing, she knew it would be.
One of the Fathers had decided that the best way to see how well her body could repair itself would be for him to torture her and penetrate her personally, and cast spells inside of her body to destroy it from inside. He took great pleasure in this, and though the other Fathers did not know, she did not suspect they would particularly care if they did. Still, he had always cautioned her never to reveal it to any of them, under threat of punishment.
Not that it really mattered. What could he possibly do to her that he hadn't already done?
She braced herself for the familiar pain of entry, forcing her gate open.
But that expectation was deceived, and replaced with fear at the laughter she heard.
Was it Roa? No, it couldn't be, Roa had no interest in her. He was a sadistic bastard, yes, but she was not Arcueid and he knew that.
"Ciel, dear, you delicious girl," said the voice, which she now recognized.
Kirei.
"I would enjoy you myself, but I must say that my anatomy does not respond to yours in the way you might expect it to. My apologies, I am afraid my pleasures will be somewhat more… unorthodox, shall we say."
He paused.
"Oh, are you expecting me to hurt you if you scream out? I will do that anyway, you know, and I would actually be quite insulted if you didn't react. There's no fun in playing with a lifeless doll, after all. So scream to your heart's content, while I discover more and more roads to joy."
She felt steel in her back, tearing her up. She felt her blood pouring out of the wounds, as they closed themselves up around the blades embedded within, and she kept herself from screaming.
She did not want to give him the satisfaction.
Kirei stroked her hair. "Maybe it would be more horrific, more painful for you if I changed the configuration here a bit… Ah, how's this, girl?"
He picked up her prone body, without any gentleness, and flipped her over in a rapid, smooth motion, slamming her back on the ground. The Black Key was still embedded, and when her back hit the floor, it jammed the blade all the way through her flesh.
She spat out a mixture of bile, saliva, and blood.
Her breathing was shallow, rapid, and uncertain.
She saw the short brown hair above her, and the frightening smile on her Master's face.
"Remember," he purred, "no matter where you are, no matter what you are doing, who you are with, or how safe you feel, all I have to do is release one of these," at this, his sleeve fell away to reveal an intricate pattern of self-intersecting black curls, "and you will be at my side, bound to my bidding."
He whispered something. She couldn't hear what it was, but as soon as he did, Black Keys appeared in the air behind him, twelve of them. All pointed at her.
"Remember," he said, as the Keys all came shooting into her body, piercing it everywhere, and she could no longer hold herself back from screaming in pain all the sounds that could possibly be uttered from her body in rebellion rebellion rebellion against the evil that she was feeling coursing through her
The pain the pain the pain the pain
But worse than all the pain pain pain, were the words that filled her skull with hatred and made her want to die and wish that she could.
"You're mine, Elesia."
Ciel woke up, screaming, and covered in sweat. It was weird to not be under the strong hand of her Master, because when she looked around her at first she could only see the Council-Room of the Fathers, until her vision adjusted in the dark to see the warmer colours of the room assigned to her in Waver's grandparents' house.
And, as she remembered when she looked to her left, Rin. Rin was there in her yellow cat pyjamas that Ciel found so cute, despite herself, but the girl seemed scared.
Ciel was worried at first as to what had gone on to lead her to feel this way, and thought there might be some danger in the room, before she realized that the girl was probably scared to see her in this state.
Rin looked like she needed some comfort, so Ciel wordlessly put her arms around the girl's shoulders, but as she did it she felt herself like she was forcing some unwanted contact on Rin, and drew away too. She felt like she was Kirei, or that Father, and she felt like she was going to throw up.
"Ciel, are you okay?" asked Rin.
"Y-yeah, Rin, I'm fine," said Ciel.
Rin looked down at the ground, perturbed. "Ciel, are you lying to me?"
Oh, shit, I should've realized. She must have massive trust issues.
Not that I can blame her.
Considering what happened…
Ciel exhaled, in preparation for what she was about to say. "Yeah, I was lying. I had a nightmare, Rin."
She looked carefully at the girl, watching her reactions to the words.
"You were?" she asked.
"Yeah. It was… about my Master."
"Ah… Kirei," said Rin.
She paused for a moment.
"Do you hate him, Ciel?"
Ciel chuckled. Such a simple question, and for anyone else it would be so hard for her to answer, but this was easy.
"Yeah, I really do, Rin."
A few tears fell from her eyes.
Rin hugged her, and smiled.
Ah, she's trying to make me feel better? I guess I need to play along, but then again, I actually do feel a little better when she's with me like this… Maybe there really is something healing about kindness.
"It's gonna be okay, Ciel," said Rin. "I'll make sure of it."
Another chuckle. "How, Rin?"
"Easy! I'll just be your new Master! Is that all right with you?"
Ciel wished that this moment would never end.
"Yeah, Rin, that would be perfect."
Rin felt a bit worried about the whole idea of being a Master to a Servant. It was something that Father had done, and was able to do, but she didn't think she was really equal to him in any way.
She was currently the head of the Tohsaka family, but wasn't that just in name only?
She had just said what she did to Ciel out of sympathy, and she hated herself for it, but after Ciel fell back asleep, she went out and started talking to that boy, Waver, about it.
He was surprised at first, and said something about Japanese children being way too full of themselves, just because they had aristocratic blood – not even he, a student at the prestigious Clock Tower in London, was able to summon more than a single Servant, and for a mere child with no formal training it would be a miracle if she could even withstand the pranic weight a single Command Spell would put on her circuits – but after his Servant, Rider, knocked some sense into him with a well-timed flick to the forehead (Rin thought this was super hilarious and allowed herself to blow him a raspberry when she thought he wasn't looking), he agreed that it was the best idea, as long as they could be sure that Rin could even have the magical energy necessary to command a Servant.
She offered to demonstrate her powers by putting some magical energy into some gems, but Waver dismissed that as a horribly unscientific method. Instead, he suggested she reflect herself onto some Soulpaper.
She had never heard of it, and she was, honestly, a little annoyed by his foreign manners, and his acting smarter than she was, but she asked him to explain how it worked. He said that the Soulpaper was basically a magical mirror that would reflect what lived inside her soul, inside of her heart. Her Origin. And it would show them how powerful she really was, and what she could find herself able to do.
He held it in front of her face, and it really looked just like a regular piece of paper. It was a little brown. He had her put her hand onto it. He then told her to imagine what she wanted more than anything in the world.
She envisioned her Father, holding her in his arms.
Nothing happened.
He shook his head, and told her that she needed to try again. This wasn't what she really wanted more than anything, and that's why the Soulpaper wasn't working.
She told him it was more likely that either he had no idea what he was doing, or this Soulpaper device of his was just a fake.
She took pleasure in seeing the vein in his forehead bulge in anger and frustration, and then searched her soul again.
She found a thread in her mental wanderings, and pulled on it. When she did, she felt confident, but it took control away from her, and pulled her back. She tried to let go, but could not, and it forced her into a new vision, more vivid than mere imagination.
She saw herself standing in front of her Mother, and her Mother is crying.
Rin is holding Mother's hand, and asking her what's wrong.
Mother tells her that Sakura has gone, and that she shouldn't think of her as her sister anymore.
And Rin sees herself smiling. And she sees her own face turn to her vision, like an actor's aside to the audience:
"Now Mother will love us more, without that weak girl there. The one we always had to let win our games, the one we knew would only have to say a single word to be taken away by Mother and be comforted by her. The one Father never pushed too hard, the one whose side Mother took in every fight we had.
"And if she's being tortured in that other house?
"Serves her right, for taking Father and Mother's affection from us all those years."
Rin was horrified at this, or she should have been.
But like so many other things that have happened to her recently, she was surprised.
There was no horror in her heart. She just saw this, and it all felt right to her, for some reason.
She couldn't explain it.
But she was fine with it.
Out of the corner of her heart, she felt some light pushing its way through the little hole she made when she entered this vision, the hole in the fabric of the curtain separating it from the real world.
Some sounds followed the light. She pulled on them, and came back to her self.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that the noises were Waver calling to her, and telling her that the Soulpaper was working.
He showed it to her excitedly, and she saw a cursive lowercase "y", with a bar struck through the bottom leg. She did not recognize it, so she asked him to explain it.
He told her it was an element that had been theorized, but never seen in any experiments thus far. He was, reluctantly, impressed at its presence in her, and suggested its power might have been due to her lineage.
"So, is that my Origin, or whatever it's called?" she asked.
"It definitely is, Rin," he said.
"And can I command a Servant with it?"
"Y-yeah, you definitely can." He ran his hand through his hair, and shook his head. "No question about it."
Rin smiled smugly. "Maybe take a lesson from this, commoner," she said, doing her best to look down on the boy who was at least a foot taller than her. "Respect the superiority of blood, and hard training."
Waver whispered something to himself that sounded suspiciously like stuck-up little princess bitch.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing…" Waver sighed. "Anyway, I support your decision. It's nice to see that you aristocrats aren't all idiots who can't see further than the parties you attend and the papers you've plagiarized from your students, but are you sure Ci—I mean, Assassin, is all right with this?"
"Of course she is, Waver." Rin felt very haughty, but it wasn't the worst thing in the world, right? It would be good practice for her future – present? – role as Second Owner of Fuyuki. It's sometimes necessary to treat the common folk this way, just to make them realize the importance of following the will of their betters. It's for their own good! The boy should feel honoured that Rin is even letting him help her, instead of doing it all herself.
"Well then… Here's the problem," said Waver, pushing his glasses back into place. "You need Command Spells."
"Don't I get those automatically, as a member of the Tohsaka? I mean, Father isn't… well…"
Waver sensed that she couldn't say what came next, so he interrupted her. "Rin, the Grail did automatically bestow Command Spells on your Father, but at this point, the priest has probably taken them from his body. So, you'll need to get yours some other way."
"I see…"
Aw, crap, I don't want to upset her, but I have to teach her what to do!
Being a parent must be hell.
"There are basically two ways: Either you get some extras from the overseers of the War, which in this case is the Church, or you take them from another Master who has already been chosen. The first method is not really doable for us, seeing as the overseer is almost certainly in league with his son and the whole thing has been a sham from the beginning… but the second option is still open."
Rider took this moment to chime in: "I approve of the fiery spirit in your breast, kid, but don't think to steal my Master's Seals. I'm sworn to protect him, and even if you have more spunk than he does, I don't go back on my word that easily…"
Waver shot his Servant a look, and continued. "Here's the situation, as far as I and my… adventurous Servant have been able to ascertain. There are seven Servants in a Holy Grail War, and one of them has died. Lancer, that is, and his Master too. By the efforts of Assassin, whose brilliance and beauty have… erm… where was I? Ah, right, yeah. So, Lancer's down. We have no idea where Caster is, or who they are, or really anything about them at all. Honestly, it's a bit worrying, but that's a different bridge we'll need to cross later on. Probably, only the Church knows anything about that, and as I said, they're not in any mood to help us out.
"So, who's left?" Waver began to enumerate with his fingers, in the European way that Rin never quite understood. She wished they would just do things like she was used to, at least when they were talking to her. "There's Archer, currently in the priest's command, and frankly way too strong for us to do anything about. There's Berserker, who we also know nothing about, but, by the very nature of the Class, is probably nothing more than just a big hulking brute, and we have one of those too, so I'm not concerned. However, since we can't find them they aren't a good target for now. There's Assassin, and Rider, obviously not targets.
"Which leaves us with Saber. Rider informed me that he had seen movement around the Einzbern forest, and when he snuck me in, I sensed a Saber Servant there, so… that leaves us with one target. I spoke to Rider about it, and we've both agreed to help you, I just wanna make sure that you're fully on board with this, and understand what it is you're getting into."
She's just a kid…
"Yeah, I understand," said Rin, a bit humbled. "I need to do this. I owe Ciel that much. If I can help her… then that's what I need to do. As a Tohsaka, it's part of our honour. Does that make sense to you?"
"Yeah… I think it does, Rin."
Rin's face brightened with a very cute smile. Waver found himself taken with the girl; annoying, and stuck-up she might be, but there was a charm to her that just made him want to help her do her best. He now saw what Ciel saw in the girl.
He was glad he was able to be there for her.
He returned her smile and a thumbs-up. "Let's go, then! It'll be fun!"
Rin chuckled, and winked. "It better be, Waver. If not, I'll punish you!"
"As if I'd let that happen, Rin," he said. "All right, let's start the planning."
He pulled out the table from the corner of the room and unfolded it, and spread a large sheet of paper over it.
Rider surprised the both of them with slaps to their backs, and a bellow of "Let the war council begin!" Waver was stunned, but when he looked over at Rin on the other side of the table, she seemed unconscious.
Rider was trying to wake her up by shouting her name into her ear, and promising her the riches of Persepolis, but it wasn't working.
Waver sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the incoming headache, and sat himself on the floor.
Guess it'll have to wait…
To tell the truth, I'm glad to help Ciel too.
Ah, Waver. What'll I do with you… Still, at least I'm doing something. I'm being useful. And Rider approves! Not that I really care what that big oaf thinks, but…
If he approves, I'm sure Ciel will too…
Still, an Origin of [Contradiction]?
That girl is scary.
Rin paced up and down her room. None of this made any sense! It was so frustrating to have to deal with these things all at once, all these burdens placed on her. Forget being magically capable of dealing with the threats that lay ahead, just understanding what was going on in her own psyche was way more than she could handle.
Though, she was glad that it at least gave her some distraction from… that thing, that she was dealing with but couldn't talk about. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but she knew that if she talked about it right now it would compound with everything else and just kill her.
She took a deep breath.
Okay. If this was something she really couldn't handle, it wouldn't have been placed in her path. Something inside her knew for sure that she could, otherwise she wouldn't have said that she could when asked.
She wouldn't have made that totally unreasonable offer to Ciel, to shoulder the weight of being a Master in a Holy Grail War.
Not like that ever ended badly for anyone else she knew…
Geh. She only had a few more minutes before she had to go with Waver, Rider, and Ciel to assault the enemy Master's compound.
She hated herself, and the fact that she had no idea what that even involved. All the strategy talk that Waver and Rider piled on her made no sense, but she didn't feel right asking them to explain it after a while, since it would just take too long.
She didn't want to be deadweight on the team.
And she wanted them to respect her, as an equal Master.
So, she forced herself to listen and smile and nod, but on the inside she was just scared stiff that she would make a mistake at the worst possible moment and send herself, and her teammates, to an early grave.
She had never even been allowed to play the strategy games that all her classmates – and Rider? – seemed to be enamoured with, since she had to spend her time focusing on her studies, both secular and magical, though fat lot of good it's going to do her now to be able to multiply 4-digit numbers in 30 seconds, or turn a formless crystal into a pony. Stupid, dumb party tricks.
Father said that those things would train her mind and soul, that even if she couldn't see the rewards now, they would bear immense fruit in another ten, or fifteen years.
As if she had that time.
Her entire life up until now was wasted, and as the seconds ticked by on the grandfather clock in her room, and she saw Ciel's empty bed next to her, the wave of stress at the thought that her life could end and it would be all her fault fell over her and she just kept breathing faster and faster and she felt dizzy, and she sat down…
It took a few minutes to calm down, but her body did. These were things she had been dealing with occasionally ever since… that thing, happened. There was nothing for it but to wait them out, and she worried this too would seize her at exactly the worst time during the assault.
Fuck.
Whatever. She just needed to be a Tohsaka, and be elegant in all situations, as she was taught. And while it might be acceptable to feel these things behind closed doors, that was where those thoughts had to stay.
Time to go and be the hero, save Ciel, and then… Sakura.
Though that's a whole 'nother can of worms.
Honestly, the rest of it isn't so bad. I'd be able to handle things a lot better…
I just wish my brain made sense.
Irisviel sat at her table, enjoying some quiet tea. Saber stood in the background of the room, looking out the window, observing, ever vigilant against possible threats.
To tell the truth, things had gotten a little boring here. Iri had not seen any fighting at all, and she wished Kiritsugu would have let her leave the castle and wander on her own, unsupervised, just so that she and Saber could find some enemies and "kick some ass", as they said in all the American movies she had watched.
She sighed. "Saber, come over here."
"Milady, I cannot," said the Servant, not even turning her eyes to Irisviel.
Irisviel looked at the Command Seals on her hand, gifts from Kiritsugu who felt that it would be best for her to have the ability to summon her Servant immediately, and at will, whenever she needed her. Iri hated that she would be given this protection, and insisted that Kiritsugu take it for himself. They had argued about it briefly, until he finally relented.
"Come, Saber, enjoy this cake with me. Kiritsugu bought it for me for my birthday from a Japanese sweets shop on the main road in Miyama Town."
"Milady, I—"
"No 'Milady's. Sit. Or do you want me to waste a Command Seal?" Iri tried her best to be threatening. She wasn't very good at it.
Saber felt like she simply had no choice. It would be a waste if an extra Command Seal was lost, as it would deprive her of a chance to tap into the power of True Magic. Even a single Seal could spell the difference between victory and defeat in a battle with a powerful enemy Servant.
In truth, Saber was also feeling a bit unsatisfied. All the work for her victory in the War was being done by her Master and his assistant, Maiya, in undisclosed locations. She had asked Kiritsugu why he would not tell her what he was doing, where he was going, or how she could help him, and he brushed her off. He told her that he was able to handle everything he was doing on his own, and that she was needed to stay with Irisviel, and protect her. And while she was happy to be entrusted with her Master's wife's safety, and she knew it was a very important task, after all these days of absolutely nothing happening, and standing at this window for hours on end with no change, and knowing that everything important was going on entirely without her involvement, was, well, unsatisfying.
And a part of her heart worried that Kiritsugu simply didn't trust her to hold her own in battle. She speculated that it was because she was really a woman, and that he had been disappointed to learn her sex, but Irisviel assured her that this was not the case, and that Kiritsugu held women in the highest regard.
More than that, though, the soul of the dragon still burned within her, and she wanted to conquer, to fight. She knew that these were unseemly impulses, and that while they could be made to act in the service of honour, they could just as easily lead men astray if they were allowed to grow to be all-consuming fires.
But she felt them, nonetheless.
So, in part also to assuage the mind-numbing boredom, as well as the self-doubts that arose in her soul when subjected to this boredom, she sat down with Irisviel for some tea and cake.
Irisviel, for her part, missed Kiritsugu more than she wanted to admit. She reached her hand out to hold Saber's, and was glad she had the comfort of the blonde Servant's company on these uniformly gloomy and dark days. But the nights… the nights were the worst, when she felt like she was cut off from everyone and everything that her life was made up of. And this feeling was accurate, because her whole life was just the one person.
Kiritsugu… I miss you so.
She tried to keep the notion of his desires, his wishes in her heart as a keepsake of him, as a memory, as a ritual substitution for his presence. But it wasn't enough, and she was finding it harder and herder to lie to herself about it.
She just wanted to fight already! Not because she relished the idea of battle, but just to get this War over with. She knew that she would die as soon as it ended.
But did she care, if it meant that even for a little while, she could have Kiritsugu's full and undivided attention again?
Just like those months in the Einzbern Castle in Germany, before Illya was born, and before… all this fated hell began.
She was tired of this cage.
As she and Saber mused, their thoughts converging upon a single goal, though each one's path was unbeknownst to the other, it was as if the heavens answered them both, with the benevolence of a Deity that loved each and every one of its daughters dearly, and willed their wishes granted.
Both women started, and whispered, "the enemy," as one.
Saber ran out the tall stained-glass window, breaking it into a myriad shattered pieces, and Irisviel spun her magical threads, weaving the sacred birds of the Einzberns.
Both women were, despite themselves, excited.
And they smiled.
I finally feel the wind around me, caressing me, pushing me forward, the holy blessing of the Invisible Air, again!
My blood screams with joy, it exults in my agility!
Arturia whispered a prayer of thanks to God for allowing her the chance to put her powers to the test once more. She ran quickly, and it was as if she were flying yet only briefly touching the ground with her foot. Lightly, lightly, her toes pushed against it, and she bounded forward at speeds exceeding any horse.
She saw the enemy in the distance. He stood there, a large red-haired figure, on a chariot.
Tch. He seems Oriental.
Probably was a Tyrant in life.
She stopped, and in the interests of honour – though she assumed this brute had none, she gave him the benefit of the doubt – she declared her Class.
He surprised her by declaring his True Name, and offering an alliance, before quickly rescinding his offer, on second thought. But the thought that he would be so frank, and tell her his True Name almost immediately…
She was honour-bound to reply in kind, and so did.
He seemed quite casual about the whole thing, which felt insulting to Arturia's pride as a warrior.
She challenged him, asked why he didn't take her sword seriously.
"Oh, worry not, King of Knights, I take your blade very seriously indeed," he replied. "Would you like to see how much? How about we have some fun, take this battle to its logical conclusion, skip the preliminaries?"
Arturia smirked. "I like the way you think, Alexander. I must say, before we begin our earnest mêlée, I am honoured to struggle with one such as yourself, who conquered all the known world. Or at least, an appreciable portion of it. I hope you were as devoted a ruler to your subjects as you were a conqueror to your acquisitions."
As she meditated, she saw her opponent laugh, full and heartily. "Little girl, do you want proof of my subjects' loyalty? Let them show you themselves! Comrades! I call unto you, men who served with me on the deserts of Africa and Turkey! My friends, my countrymen, my new allies recruited from every port! I bear your burning hearts, aflame with passion in the day and resting tranquilly in cultured wisdom at night! Please, repay me the debt I paid you all those moons ago, centuries and aeons, with the nectar of battle and the ambrosia of philosophy! I sing the name of brotherhood, of friendship, and I call my companions under my flag!
"Ionioi Hetairoi!"
Arturia saw the world around her change, as a sphere of light was created, and then expanded, around Alexander. It enveloped him, then her, then the entire World.
She felt her connection to Gaia weaken, if only slightly.
She saw a desert before her, and Alexander was surrounded by men. Hundreds, thousands, myriads, all bearing arms from every era of the world's armories. Bronze, iron, stone, steel. Every warrior she saw wore different armour, bore different weapons. She even saw some modern warriors with firearms, she saw tanks, and helicopters.
She realized that her opponent, by the force of his legend, had become such a great inspiration to every conqueror throughout human history, that their legends blended with his, and he truly was the King of Conquerors, for he bore the overwhelming might of every war machine that had ever been devised. All men who gathered arms to take land from others worshipped his legacy, and they in turn were immortalized therein.
Truly, an honourable, and equitable contract this man has struck with his subjects…
She found herself admiring him, which gladdened her heart. It did not do for a Knight to fight against one whom she did not respect, it sucked the honour from the battle and turned it into a mindless, inhumane struggle or slaughter.
She saw even some of the men who came unto Britain from across the seas, gathering against her. She knew they were mere phantoms and could not possibly recognize her, but still, her heart stung, as if pricked by the needle of revenge.
Still, she was confident, and sure of her chances. So, she raised the holy sword, and she felt its energy suffusing her body, as the men on the ground far beyond her reach began to march against her.
Her limbs throbbed. She heard voices, of her knights. All save one praised her name and thanked her for wielding their souls in her fight, for each of them contributed to her legend in their own way, even that one, and that other one.
Those whom she failed – even they were blessings.
Even their names are carried on her lips, as she named the Knights of the Table Round, each one with reverence. Every name she uttered, Tor, Pelleas, Galahad, Lancelot, Mordred, Bor, Kay, Tristan… each one filled her with more power as their spirits entered her own.
She felt the warriors dead on the battlefield; while Alexander's companions were men who sought to conquer and increase their own powers, and those of their lords, her companions were those who wanted to change the world, who wanted to revolutionise its order, who sought righteousness.
And they all died, for that is the nature of this world: that even if a man is successful in effecting an improvement to the Human Order, he must always pay the price of this infinitely powerful effect with that most accursed, yet also most sacred, of all ritual: Human sacrifice.
A man must die to change men.
The Saviour was the first to demonstrate this, and his sacrifice changed all men forever.
Yet even more minor changes required the same, and so all of Arturia's men were dead. Martyred, though often not honoured by history with that epithet.
And yet, she knew she must sing.
She let the air swirl in a vortex around her blade, not bothering to conceal it any longer, just letting it emerge fully formed from the tornado empowered by the sacred winds.
Its golden sheen illuminated the night, and it was as day. She felt the weight of all heroes, past, present, and future, their hopes and dreams that die on the battlefield, reborn in the glow of that blade, and she prepared herself, as the Once and Future King, the bearer of their standards, the Scion of Hope, the Guardian of the World and its Will against assault, to sing its sacred name to the skies.
The magic sword, taken from the Stone, and blessed with the power of the Lady of the Lake, God's divine messenger and the incarnation of the Virgin, imbuing it with the power of Light, and her with the eternal right of kingship in Britain. Its holy name is, was, and forever shall be:
"Ex….CALIBUR!"
The sword grew to huge proportions, dwarfing even the legendary Tower of Babel. She threw it down, in an arc, slashing the air and sending a burst of the concentrated magical energy of Gaia against her foe.
When the dust settled, and Arturia could see again, she thought she would find her foe decimated. But while there were thousands dead, myriads more trampled their deceased companions and rushed against her.
Again, she summoned her powers, and launched the might of Excalibur at her enemies.
Again, more rose.
Again, and again, and again.
It went on, seemingly forever.
She began to worry about Irisviel. She comforted herself with the knowledge that if her Master needed her, then she would simply be summoned with the Command Seals entrusted her by Kiritsugu.
The waves of foreign hosts came closer, and closer.
She saw her enemy, Alexander, laughing in triumph.
Is this mere sport to him? Does he not see how my body is wracked with fatigue, my Magical Energy failing me? I cannot last forever, and in the battle of attrition this has come to be, I am afraid I shall lose.
I must call for aid.
I would not ask my foe to grant me breathing room, but perhaps I can tap into my link with Irisviel!
But… It's not working.
Is it being blocked by the field I am in, the Reality Marble?
Oh no.
I don't have enough Magical Energy for another blast.
She could smell the sweat of her foes.
She knew what would happen, and determined to make good on her promise to her Master, that she had sworn to her on that evening, when Irisviel lay in bed, and begged Saber to protect her, in order to fulfill Kiritsugu's ideals.
She cursed the Grail, and the Will of Man, that forced her to relive this journey endlessly, ever cursed not to obtain the Holy Cup every instance of her summoning, though she was guaranteed to obtain it eventually, in the infinities of time.
But the infinities of time surpassed anything that she could comprehend, and they were independent from each individual moment, each occurrence of her summoning.
The Will of Man had tricked her. It had promised an eventuality that lay "Beyond Countability", a term Arturia did not know, and one in which she had to place her faith on that evil battlefield, her heart pierced by her son's lance.
She had been desperate, and would take any chance she could to restore the glories of her Kingdom, and the only one that reached its hand out to her was a viper in disguise.
She held her sword in her hand, and fought the enemies. She felled one, another, another, endlessly.
She soon grew delirious.
She grasped in the great random about her, the seething mass of flesh, blood, and gore. She did not know what she sought, she only felt the visions come over her mind, one after the other, unbidden.
She saw the grassy field where she had frolicked as a young girl, and the stone whence she the sword pulled. She saw her foster father raise her, she saw Ser Kay, her brother with whom she had shared many childhood games, and who had introduced her to his fellows…
She remembered the early intimacies she had shared.
She had had, then, a girlish desire for conquest, and gave it free rein over those fellows.
That all ended after the Sword of Selection.
She recalled even the moment of her conception, her true Father (though she hated his name) disguised and sweating, and her mother, taken against her will.
She recalled his decree, and being sent onto the ship that wrecked, the moans and cries of all the children around her as their bodies were crushed by its planks and beams, and their lungs filled with water. The gurgling noises of those who could no longer scream.
She alone was saved, and for a great destiny of her country.
And she failed.
And failed.
Again, and again, and again, and yet again she failed now!
She failed her country.
She failed Ser Lancelot.
And worst of all, she failed Ser Mordred.
She had repeated her Father's evil legacy and condemned her own son to death, and in just Heaven's punishment, her son was sent against her. She was to reap the whirlwind after sowing the wind, and she could not complain.
She could only bear it.
And now she bore it once more. She saw Mordred's pleading, angry face before her now, and again she saw herself refuse to acknowledge her as the King's son.
She felt the spear pierce her breast, and she in turn thrust her own lance through Mordred's armour.
And she cried. She bawled her eyes out. She fell to the ground and wept and prayed that the great Saviour would forgive her, and grant her one more chance, and that she would finally obtain the Promised Victory.
And she begged Irisviel for forgiveness, though she knew that her Master would never again her a single word from her lips.
And then, her spirit began to dissipate, and return to its eternal limbo, that temporary location that was neither the Throne of Heroes – reserved for true Servants, not mere ghosts like her – nor the Afterlife.
Iskandar watched her fall, watched her finger the air before her, as his men fell upon her, and he watched her cry and become a shower of golden sparks, their flight through the air lubricated, it seemed, by the fluid of her tears.
(He watched her call names in languages he did not know, and with each name called, another flurry of sparks disintegrated.)
And he pitied her.
