In a shared landscape between dreams and reality, the history of a certain Arturia's life continued to unfold, spectated by various alternatives of herself including the original. What had once been a simple matter of watching images through an illusory screen had transitioned into various timelines of their own making.
At the point a certain Arturia's life finally revealed a dramatic entry of a man that dared catapult himself through the air to reach her, various emotions came to light.
Arturia Lily was watching with bated breath and swooning as the aggrieved King threw herself at her Shirou in the middle of a battlefield. Wiping tears from her eyes, Lily clasped her hands and cheered, but her exuberance was not shared.
Realizing she was making a scene, Lily awkwardly wilted before glancing at her compatriots.
Some were stone faced, others livid, while a couple were stewing in a desperate frustration.
Spotting Saber Alter, Lily felt a bit better about herself because Saber Alter was at least smiling, bitter if anything, but better than nothing.
Lily had no idea what was happening in Saber Alter's alternative record, but she'd seen Saber Alter confiding with Lancer lately, and she'd been looking less dark ever since. Day by day, it felt like the cloud of misery hanging over Saber Alter's head was fading.
Lily had never seen Saber Alter so excited when she caught a snippet of Saber Alter's recent conversation with Lancer. Something about making progress? But Lily dared not pry. Saber Alter's glare still scared her just as much as Lancer Alter's suffocating aura.
Then there was the Arturia that claimed to be the original…
She'd yet to find her Shirou even now, and was probably the most desperate given that she was clenching her fists so tightly that she was drawing blood. The sheer blankness of her expression through it all caused the hairs on the back of Lily's neck to rise.
Lily flinched and steered clear when their gazes met.
Lily had no clue what the original Arturia did with the knowledge Saber Alter shared that Mordred might have made contact with their missing Shirou's first. Frankly, she felt that this 'Mordred' fellow was almost pitiful, especially since she named her and Shirou's son with that exact name.
Vortigern was Lily's main problem right now because unlike her compatriots, he'd yet to be dealt with, but moving on. Lily figured she could ask for tips, but most of her alternative selves were unapproachable, and this went doubly for Lancer Alter. The cold darkness she emitted was too stifling.
Moving away from the other three, Lily knew that there was only one person she could truly confide with, but this time would prove different.
"Lancer?" Lily asked tentatively.
A stark change had occurred in the last alternative dream sequence.
Lancer Arturia was despondent, silently crying with a hand pressed over her face. The choked sobs that escaped her mouth wracked her body with shivers. Her complexion was pale, and an overbearing sense of regret pervaded her.
Lily felt her mouth go dry.
Lancer Arturia had been the only one who helped reassure Lily and seeing Lancer Arturia's state now, Lily wanted to reciprocate in any way she could.
"W-What's wrong?" Lily instantly put away her own thoughts and crouched by Lancer Arturia's side. "Uhm, ah, Ah Y-Yes! I heard if you talk things out you feel better?"
Lancer Arturia swallowed, pulling her hands away from her face to see Lily fretting over her.
In contrast, Lily froze upon seeing how puffed up and swollen Lancer Arturia's eyes were. There was a grief in them that Lily could just not describe even as a mother herself. Was it the pain of loss? A great sorrow.
"Sorry," Lancer Arturia wiped her tears, urging Lily away with a shake of her head. "...just not now."
Lily pursed her lips, but nodded. Standing up, she left to her own part of the dreamscape, but wandered too close to Lancer Alter's domain.
Lily instantly froze up, feeling the threat of death wash over her.
"Ah, I, ugh, H-Hi?" Lily staggered back, a pair of fierce golden eyes staring back at her.
It might have just been Lily's imagination, but she felt like she had to err on the side of caution. The wrong word or action may even lead to an irreversible provocation.
Still, the demeanor, the face, even the stature…
Lily shivered involuntarily before hastily running away in the silence.
How could it so eerily resemble Morgan?
Fires flickered, smoke wafting through the air as an acrid scent of burning wood and thatch permeated the air. Amid the dancing glow, a black armored knight could be seen at the center of everything, a full moon acting as the backdrop to a clear night sky.
Everything was destroyed, buildings smashed by inhuman force, and the ground gouged out with craters as if boulders had smashed into it.
Lancer Arturia stood silently in the devastation of her own alternative record, black and red magic energy still swirling around her lance.
The impact of what she'd done no longer affected her.
She was numb to it all.
Putting her lance away, she surveyed the ruined town. The flames ate away at everything, even the bodies that were left buried under the rubble. Embers drifted in the wind, the darkness of her segmented plate armor sucking in all light as if it was the night itself.
Tinges of red magic energy spiraled around her lance and illuminated the sharp edges of her armor's design. Once, the armor would have been brighter, regal, now it represented only the demise of the departed.
Crushing ashes underfoot, she turned and moved on without another word, but froze as the sound of clanking armor echoed behind her.
"Why?!" A man called out to her in bitter frustration.
Battered and beaten, Lancer Arturia had thought she rendered the man unconscious, but the man stayed awake with sheer grit and forced himself up onto his feet. He was the very picture of a stalwart knight, never giving up in the face of adversity.
The knight's armor was shattered and broken, revealing the mangled chainmail beneath, and blood was pooling from cuts and scratches that stemmed from severe bruising. But through all the agony, the man could not bring himself to fall.
No longer able to properly hold his sword which he never let go of, he still hobbled, desperate to reach Lancer Alter.
It was a miracle that the man was alive against Lancer Alter considering how ruthless she could be, but was it really a miracle? Perhaps, something else was at play.
The man was the sole knight that urged the city's garrison to retreat while he stayed behind to impede the attacker.
"Why?!"
Lancer Alter hardened her expression, downcast eyes narrowing with unsaid trepidation, and an unwillingness to remain here or speak any further.
"Dammit, Arturia, answer me!"
That knight was Sir Kay, Lancer Arturia's older brother.
Lancer Alter let out a hollow laugh, catching Kay off guard. She was laughing, but it sounded like she was grieving, slowly dying.
Kay's features fell, knowing how everything went wrong when Lancer Alter came back alone without Ashton.
"...you wouldn't understand."
Lancer Alter abruptly cut off her laughter, eyes bloodshot.
Unlike the others who had their Shirou or had hoped that their Shirou was still alive, Lancer Alter was different. She had always been one for certainty and could not bring herself to rely on probability, so she went searching for an answer from the start.
Lancer Arturia had sought the Lady of the Lake, and she'd told her that the Shirou she knew- her Shirou whom she grew up with, no longer existed.
Given the nature and capability of Vivian, the Lady of the Lake, she would not lie.
The Shirou that Lancer Alter knew was truly gone.
"Then help me understand!"
Kay limped, hobbling closer and closer to Lancer Alter who watched him with dead eyes.
He drew closer, hugging Lancer Arturia as he could see her utter anguish. But unfortunately, he failed to grasp its depth.
A hard punch suddenly smashed into Kay's chest and reverberated through Kay's gut, shaking his inner organs and causing his knees to weaken. He gagged, vision swimming.
"Y-You!" Kay was devastated, falling to his knees and choking back the bile that threatened to rush up his throat from the sudden blow.
She was family. T-They were family.
Kay clenched his teeth, trying to grasp at Lancer Alter's heels, but failing in his weakness.
Lancer Arturia turned away, mounting a blackened Llamrei that stepped through flames and devastation. She opened her mouth, and spoke without a shred of feeling.
"There's no going back for me, brother Kay."
She didn't want to kill Kay nor Sir Ector, but they kept appearing again and again.
"Please. Don't make me kill you."
Lancer Alter whipped Llamrei's reins, urging him into a trot.
"Arturia! Damn you, don't you dare! Did we mean nothing to you?! Are we now just enemies?!"
Lancer Arturia donned her Black helmet, no longer responding.
"Fuck! FUUUCK!"
The cries of Kay cursing echoed in the background, Lancer Arturia's shoulders hunching further and further with each curse, but she could not stop. Not anymore.
She knew it all too well.
If the kingdom was destined to fall into the anecdotes of history, then so be it. There was nothing worth obstructing the natural order left, especially when she was the one who ruled.
Everything she had will be destroyed by Lancer Arturia's own hands.
Vengeance was all that burned in Lancer Arturia's blackened heart.
Llamrei trampled over the Coat of Arms symbolizing Queen Morgan the Fair's rule, Lancer Alter's figure vanishing in the flames amid Kay's desperate shouting.
In the absence of 'he who drew the sword in the stone,' Britain needed a new leader to unify the people against the Saxons. None suited this role more than King Uther's eldest daughter after she proved her capabilities by annexing Vortigern's forces through her magic, wit, and the aid of an unknown knight she took as her husband.
Seated on a simple throne within Camelot's inner palace, Morgan cast an icy gaze over the messengers and aides that filled the audience hall.
An air of tension and nervousness filled the room, but all focus was directed on the main messenger reporting recent events in the kingdom.
"My Queen, we'v lost Tintagel to the Black Knight." The messenger repeated, swallowing nervously.
All at once, Morgan's expression darkened, fingers digging tightly into her throne's hand rests.
"What of the Saxons?" Morgan inquired, already expecting the answer.
"R-Realizing Tintagel's weakness, they advanced their forces and occupied the area. Rather than encroach further inward, they took up Tintagel's position and are fortifying." The messenger bowed his head, feeling the tension grow. "It's impossible for our forces to breach without a Knight of the Roundtable to break through and lead the charge."
Morgan's lips thinned.
The Black Knight was like a disease, striking where it hurts and debilitated Britain's forces with unerring ferocity. Tintagel was a stronghold meant to impede the Saxon's advance further down the southern peninsula. More importantly, the dockyard in the city had to be defended to prevent the Saxons from using their shipbuilding to conduct raids through the water and toward upper Wales.
The fact the Saxons were fortifying meant they intended to defend the position and begin production of primitive caravels to strike Britain's western coasts.
"What of the Black Knight?" Morgan asked, tone hardening. "Were the forces stationed in Tintagel just for show?"
"S-Sir Kay was defeated, and ordered the remaining forces to consolidate and retreat." The messenger answered.
"..." Morgan frowned at the name.
Neither Kay or Sir Ector showed her any respect, but at least she could reason that the common enemy should come first before infighting. Merlin however was the worst offender of all.
Whatever, she didn't need him. Morgan refocused.
"My Queen, the Black Knight must be dealt with!" The aides implored with fervor. "We can't leave him alone or else he'll cut a path to Camelot itself! We must recall the other Round Table Knights and mount a siege on him!"
"We're spread tight enough as it is," Morgan shook her head. "We cannot pull back the Knights of the Roundtable from their positions or risk a full collapse of the front lines. Give a better answer."
"Then, what about your personal Knight and husb-"
The aide speaking froze, murder flickering in Morgan's eyes at the mere suggestion, but as if it was all a ruse, the bloodlust vanished.
At the far side of the audience hall, the doors opened and a man stepped in. The clinking sound of his regal armor, and the magic energy he exuded drew inspiration from all. A dragon in the form of a man, that was who the man was. He who was known as the unknown knight that helped orchestrate Vortigern's downfall.
"I don't understand Morgan." The knight spoke, the tension in the air quickly alleviating as Morgan coughed and recomposed herself.
A breath of relief passed through everyone in the presence of the unknown knight, Morgan absently twirling a lock of hair around her index finger. But the moment didn't last. The unknown knight's words caused Morgan to noticeably tense with unease.
"Why won't you give the order? I'm available to intercept the Black Knight."
Not for the first time, the unknown knight brought up the topic of personally dealing with the Black Knight that was constantly tormenting Morgan with problems.
And once again, Morgan appeared to deflect, pursing her lips and holing up.
Morgan looked to the others in the room, giving them all a subtle stare before craning her chin out.
"Dismissed," she called an end to the morning assembly and focused all her attention back on the unknown knight.
Her expression softened when the two were alone, but not by much.
"Trust me, husband." Morgan stood up from her throne and approached the man she married, his features concealed behind a magic helmet. "It's for the best."
"Then why do you always look so guilty and anxious?" The unknown knight took Morgan off guard and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin over her right shoulder. "Is the Black Knight so strong?"
Morggan opened and closed her mouth, a shudder going down her back as she could feel the sincerity. She felt choked up, for reasons she never would have expected before.
"Strength has nothing to do with it, dear."
Morgan placed her hands over top of her husband's fingers, lacing them together and squeezing softly.
"It's more of a personal matter. If you truly love me, you will avoid prying into it."
Morgan continued to insist with the same words she used the last time they had this discussion. The unknown knight frowned as he did last time, but he simply held Morgan closer, letting his warmth envelop her.
"Ack, ugh." The unknown knight suddenly winced, pulling back from Morgan while shaking his head.
Morgan froze, a hint of unease bleeding into her expression. "D-Does the head still ache?"
"Not anymore." The unknown knight denied it, and he was no liar. "Phantom pains I think. That's all."
Morgan swallowed, and quickly played off the matter. Her expression cooled, and the iciness of her gaze returned. She pushed the unknown knight in the direction of the door.
"If you're fine, then I'll leave Camelot's protection to you as always," she said, snorting.
The unknown knight did not argue, rather his demeanor seemed to perk up with amusement and fondness.
"Mordred will be happy," he said, earning a tug from Morgan's lips.
"You spoil her." She accused him without care.
"What father wouldn't?" The unknown knight grinned, daring to put a hand on Morgan's head and tussling her hair. It was absurd, but it was even more laughable that Morgan found the touch comforting. "Don't tire yourself out too much, Morgan. You're Mordred's mother too. If you need help, just call."
Morgan nodded quietly, earning another head pat before the unknown knight, and her husband walked out of the audience hall.
Left to her own devices, Morgan's shoulders slumped. Her neutral expression shifted into bitter melancholy.
"...how did things come to this?" Morgan wilted at the irony of it all, laughing self-depreciatingly.
She alone knew the true identity of the unknown knight, and it constantly ate away at her after all that happened between them.
That unknown knight, her husband…he was none other than the last of the Ashton family.
-Her little sister's Shirou Ashton.
Morgan had been the first to find Shirou of all people, and Morgan was nothing less than thorough in her indifference back then.
Realizing that Shirou was fine and that his memories were hazy through her own magic, Morgan personally finished the deed and erased everything. She even went as far as to don a magic helmet that hid the secret of his pedigree from all prying eyes.
Not a single memory was left beyond what Shirou's body remembered. She'd even brought Shirou to the misty coast of the southwest peninsula where fairies dare not stray in fear of losing themselves in the fog of forgetfulness.
She raised him as a new card to play, a sharp tool, but she fell poison to something she never thought she'd feel.
Love and affection.
Even bereft of his memories of who he was, he was still a man that somehow wormed his way in.
An almost fond smile came to Morgan's lips at the memories of their rough start, but that was why it made the situation all the more pressing.
She refused to deploy Shirou against the Black Knight not because he was incapable or stood no chance, but solely because Morgan was scared.
She knew exactly what would happen if those two met.
Morgan was scared of losing her husband, and that was why for the first time…she felt genuine guilt towards her younger sister.
If love was this sort of heart wrenching feeling at the thought of losing it, then Morgan could not fathom the depth of the wound she inflicted on her younger sister.
Morgan expected no forgiveness, nor an easy death if Arturia managed to overpower her. Even if she abdicated her rule and hid in seclusion, she had no illusions that Arturia would actually stop hunting her down.
So at the very least, she resolved not to get her husband involved.
Not now.
Not ever.
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Chaldea Alternative Records
Realm of the Forsaken
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