"An excellent strike, Beddy!"
"Only because of your expert driving, Rider!"
Having a Servant with a chariot was certainly beneficial for traversing the battlefield and weakening the enemy forces with hit-and-run tactics, but the larger demonic beasts Morgan employed were difficult to deal with that way without risking the chariot being toppled over or seriously damaged. This left Bedivere and Rider with a very specific role within the king's army: they thinned the herd, cutting down smaller enemies, helping allies that were outnumbered or facing sudden ambushes. Occasionally, this ally was a fellow Master or Servant, but usually a lesser knight.
Every so often, the two became bold, riding up alongside a larger demonic beast to allow one of the two to strike or thrust with their swords. Rider showcased her impressive ability to command her vehicle, flying and spinning through the air with deftness. She even, just now, turned the entire chariot upside-down to allow her Master to strike out the eye of a cyclops from mere feet above its massive head.
As their confidence grew, so too did the frequency of their risk-taking. Master and Servant managed to rescue dozens of allies this way for much of the battle. It was only with the arrival of an enemy Servant that the two had to put these successful tactics on hold to deal with this greater threat.
Overhead, the dragon knight Berserker of Red flew across the field, utilising several large leaps that left craters and broken bodies from both sides with each successive leap. Following his trajectory, the two quickly identified his destination: up on one of the highest slopes of the field, King Arthur and Saber were engaged in a duel with Sir Mordred and Nero.
The previous time Rider had encountered her nemesis in battle, she had rushed headlong into the enemy lines in a bid to strike down the enemy Saber. Bedivere had been forced to call her off with a Command Spell when he and Sir Percival were unable to break through the enemy lines to reinforce her. When faced with her Master's disappointment after the battle, she had promised to keep herself under control when next they faced Nero in battle.
That time, it seemed, may well be now, if their intervention went poorly. Sir Gawain had explained to the Servants the significance of Vortigern's ability once he was identified as the secret identity of Morgan's Berserker. His ability to seal away the power of the holy sword and its sister blade would take away the Blue Faction's greatest non-Servant weapons - possibly the greatest overall - and this was surely for this exact reason Morgan that had summoned him.
Bedivere and Rider had no need to voice their shared concern. A single nod exchanged between the two was all they needed to know they were both set on the same goal: to keep Vortigern away from their allies. The two were not entirely sure they could keep him busy for long alone. Hopefully, Caster might be able to provide support from wherever it was that she had ended up.
They lamented Sir Lancelot's absence, knowing his own Berserker could certainly match Vortigern. Bedivere wondered if he had made the wrong choice by not opposing Sir Agravain's proposal to leave their fellow knight behind. Alas, it would be up to the two of them alone to buy Arthur time to put down the traitor and her Servant so that the four could face Berserker as one.
Boudica brought her chariot directly below Vortigern as he commenced yet another destructive descent. She managed to catch him in the chariot early enough into his descent for his landing to be like that of any normal human, not the decimation of his explosive crashes. Once inside, Berserker found himself being flung this was and that as Rider began spinning her chariot, performing spins and rolls, flying upside-down for a time... Against all of it, Berserker held fast to the chariot.
That was when Boudica drove her vehicle as high into the air as she could before their extra passenger was too much of a threat to her Master. She then looped the chariot back down towards the ground at top speed. Hopping away from the reigns she kicked Vortigern's grasping hand away from her Master and grabbed hold of him herself, leaping from the chariot with Bedivere held tightly in her arms while Berserker was pinned against the back of the plummeting chariot by the g-force. The chariot and the horses drawing it safely dissipated, but only once close enough to the ground that Berserker could not escape the confines of the vehicle until it was too late for him to recover.
Vortigern hit the ground like a bomb, digging a massive crater into the ground and sending chucks of dislodged dirt and rock flying in all directions. Throughout their initial attempts to shake him free, Boudica had been driving the chariot away from the more populated areas to find a good spot for the two to keep him busy, far away from his original target.
Of course, keeping him from his target - the very man that had struck him down with the holy spear - would only enrage the Berserker further, granting him yet more power with which to batter them. As Rider made a perfect landing with her Master in her arms, like a mother holding her child, Vortigern was already pushing himself to his feet again, his talon-like gauntlets bared and thirsty for their blood.
"I need time to prepare my chariot again," Rider explained quietly to her Master as both combatants drew their swords into ready positions.
"I doubt we can use the same trick on him again, even if we survive long enough to call upon it," Bedivere responded, mustering up the courage to face this beast that had once ravaged this nation even before becoming a spirit. Even Merlin had been unsure how Vortigern had been eligible for summoning, which only served as yet further cause for concern surrounding Morgan's personal pick.
"If all else fails, we can just grab Arthur and keep out of his range until we have proper reinforcements."
"Or lure him back to Camelot. The defences there and Sir Lancelot's Servant should be enough to keep him at bay, at least."
"Not a bad idea, Beddy," Boudica smiled warmly. "We can settle on a plan once my chariot is ready. In the meantime, let's show this foolish beast what the defenders of Britain do to tyrants."
The instant this declaration was made, the tyrant in question was already upon them. His slashes and swings were wild, untamed, undisciplined. It was one thing to face an opponent with little formal training in combat through which to predict their movements. It was another entirely to face one who could throw out such strikes with such frequency that one could barely register that one blow had concluded by the time the next was on its way.
Fighting a Berserker between the two made them more grateful than ever that the other was by their side, knowing full well that the fight would have ended already were they fighting this monster alone. An uncharacteristically sudden, swift roll in the air caught the two off-guard and allowed Vortigern to kick Boudica and send her flying several feet away. The dragon knight then gripped Rider's Master tightly around the wrist, apply pressure enough to force the sword from his hand. He then swung Bedivere up over his head, and slammed him down into the dirt.
Fortunately for the knight, the ground beneath him was mostly soft soil from Berserker's earlier crash landing. Still, that did little to remove the danger of the attack. Luckily, Boudica was as quick on her feet as she was in her chariot, propelling herself into Vortigern with her sword in hand, sliding the blade between the folds of his scale-like armour as her body collided with his and knocked both Servants off their feet.
Before Rider could find her feet, Berserker had his large, armoured claw gripped tightly around her ankle. He began spinning with his arm outstretched, swinging his enemy in a wide arc, around and around like a top. Before he could release her into yet another short-lived flight, Bedivere threw himself into the larger man, staying low and dropkicking his right leg out from under him, killing his momentum almost instantly and allowing Rider to escape unharmed from his weakened grasp.
Of course, the downside of Bedivere's attack was that, although it had both saved Rider and provided an opportunity to get his own blade under his foe's armour, it also left him lying beneath his foe, who had no trouble keeping him pinned to the ground, even as Boudica tried to shove him off. Even gripping the hilt of her sword, still embedded deep in Berserker's body, did little to weaken him. Rather, it only seemed to anger him further.
He grabbed Boudica by her flowing red mane, dragged her over his head and slammed her into the ground as he had Bedivere, Rider landing right above her Master's head. But even this was not enough to stop her for long. By the time Bedivere had swiped enough of his Servant's hair out of his face to see, she was up on her knees, staring down the other Servant with an expression twisting her kind features that he had not seen her bear since her encounter with Nero. Hate did not come easy to Boudica. But when it did...
Weaponless, she launched herself into the Berserker, her knee colliding with his face. She then grabbed her sword and yanked it out of his torso, preparing to thrust it directly into his exposed jaw. But he easily pushed the blade to the side, throwing her off-balance and catching her around the throat. With the ease of tossing an apple, he viciously threw Boudica clear across the crater and turned his attention back towards the pinned knight.
Bedivere dug his own blade out of Vortigern's body, attempting the same strike his Servant had. He managed to push the tip of his blade directly into Vortigern's jaw through the inside of his mouth. It took some fenagling, but Bedivere managed to pop Vortigern's jaw out of one of its sockets. For the first time, the roar of fury typical of the Berserker class transformed into howls of pain. Berserkers could endure much and barely feel any of it, but it seemed there were some wounds that even that superhuman endurance could do little to numb.
Perhaps it was something tied to Vortigern himself. After all, the mouth was an essential tool of all dragons, with many unleashing some form of magical breath attack from within, alongside the powerful jaws. Any such ability would likely cause a severe sting, at the very least, with each attempted use. Bedivere pulled back his blade and aimed the tip for the roof of his foe's mouth, hoping he could pierce his brain now, but Vortigern was having none of it.
He slammed a mighty palm down over Bedivere's wrist, keeping his sword hand pinned as the jagged gauntlets dug into the ground beneath it. Bedivere's attempt to punch his foe in the weakened jaw instead resulted in both hands being pinned down. Berserker lowered his face towards that of the pinned knight, his glowing white eyes now shifting to an ashy black. While his mouth was too broken and his mind too consumed with hate to verbalise it, Bedivere immediately understood, from descriptions he had heard of Vortigern, that he was preparing his Noble Phantasm.
Vortigern was the human personification of the White Dragon of Britain, set on destroying Britain in rejection of the Age of Man. He had transformed into a gigantic tunnel-like creature of shadow, only resembling the typical image of a dragon in the loosest possible sense. This blackness emanating from his eyes and mouth, and now forming into devilish black wings on his back, was surely a sign of that abyssal wyrm's power being prepared to be unleashed.
A full retinue of elite knights had been massacred in an instant by one attack from Vortigern, and Bedivere sensed that the mythic status of this unholy power was surely the form that his Noble Phantasm would take. He feared Vortigern might transform into his dragon form and crush him to death before laying waste to the battlefield; but he instead raised a hand and brought it down viciously into Bedivere's shoulder, definitely dislocating and very likely breaking the bone entirely. Bedivere's scream almost drowned out the guttural, rage-filled roar of the man responsible for this agony.
On freshly-sprouted wings of shadow, Vortigern launched himself high into the air and drew back his head, collecting that vile substance within his gaping maw. Perhaps he was limited by the form of his legend, his supporters unwittingly keeping the image of their human king from taking on his draconic form. Or perhaps it was under command from his Master to keep him controllable. Or even due his original divine power being too great to be contained within a mere Heroic Spirit. Whatever the case may be, it seemed this was the form that his ultimate power had taken in this incarnation.
As Vortigern threw his head forward and wretched out this torrent of black death upon his foe, Rider, made her way back to the edge of the crater. Taking only a moment to assess the situation and recognise what was happening, Rider recognised the threat this deadly ability posed, having heard the stories of the White Dragon's wicked power from her Master's fellow knight. This was a power designed to wipe out large swathes of enemy combatants in a single blast, incinerating them to mere dust with evil, onyx flames.
With only seconds with which to act, Rider recognised that her own Noble Phantasm's most powerful property lacked the coverage to affect both Bedivere and herself. Boudica thought of her home, her people, her daughters, and her Master. The Queen of Victory had faced much loss during her lifetime - far more than any one person should ever need to, many would say. And she would sooner cast her soul into oblivion than allow this monster to destroy her precious little brother. Her course, then, was obvious.
"O' Britain, burn this sight into your eyes! This is the form of the Heroic Spirit, Boudica! Chariot of Boudica!"
The Chariot of Boudica was not an offence-based Noble Phantasm, but one meant to defend, as she once had her nation. The true property of this ability was potent defensive magic. Bedivere was submerged in this manifestation of the Queen of Victory's desire to protect her people and her family. He felt that, for all of his weariness, every ache and pain and bruise and cut and fractured bone he had suffered in this battle thus far... none of it mattered in the moment, as this maternal blanket of protection was now wrapped around him, like a babe in his mother's arms.
He felt his body push through the pain as he forced himself to sit up. Even as the dragon's torrent continued for what felt like an age, the smaller man's body was barely moved and only felt the heat enough to realise it was actually touching him. Even his armour remained unscathed against the enemy's powerful attack.
From his sitting position, he could finally see the rim of the crater, where Rider now stood. Wreathed in shadow, her form was lit only by a single ray of sunlight shining down in the distance behind her, likely shining down upon Sir Gawain's own struggles elsewhere. But right now, Gawain and Caster, ever Arthur and Saber, had entirely vacated Bedivere's thoughts. He recalled the many dreams he had seen of Boudica's life: of her love, her struggles and her end. In this moment, staring up at the regal figure standing high above him, staring down with that warm, gentle smile, as he felt her comforting embrace given true, tangible form through the legend she had carved for herself, Bedivere found himself truly in awe of his Servant's abilities.
He then felt the flames strike at his heart now that his body was protected, as they spread quickly from where he sat, outward to the other edge of the crater, over and beyond the rim. It took only seconds for that noble figure to disappear once more into the wind, unjustly passed from this land she so loved and protected once again. By the time the shadowy flames finally died down, they left only desolate, black ash all around the injured knight.
Bedivere was devastated. He had truly meant every word when he had told her that she was an inspiration for all knights - himself in particular. He had so enjoyed their time together, even if most of that time had been spent engaging in battle with depraved reprobates that sought to undo all that Boudica and Arthur had achieved. He wished, now, that he had told her that she had left an indelible mark, in both of her lives, upon this nation; and upon him.
But she would never know this now...
Vortigern returned to the ground around a dozen feet from Bedivere. He seemed worn out, as if this despicable assault upon the very land and history of Britain had actually come at a well-deserved cost. Bedivere pushed himself to his feet and switched his sword into his left hand, his right hanging uselessly at his side now that the numbing effect of Boudica's final protection was wearing off.
Berserker stared him down for a time, both men assessing the other's injuries and remaining capabilities. That the dragon knight did not immediately rush in to finish off the crippled Master - no, former Master, he supposed - indicated that even Vortigern could not be sure he could finish this battle in his current state. After some undisclosed time of simply deciding, Vortigern moved to finish what he had started with Rider. Bedivere readied his blade, pointing its tip towards the encroaching Servant.
But Berserker stopped in his tracks before he came into the range of Bedivere's thrusts. He turned his head towards the larger battle and stood stock still for a moment. Just as Bedivere moved to take advantage of his foe's distraction, Vortigern once more leapt through the air and into the distant fray, no doubt heeding the call of his Master.
After all, Rider of Blue was now neutralised. Her Master, skilled though he may be, was no longer enough of a threat to be worth the time to finish him off - not when there were two other Servants whose Masters could be depowered by his abilities. And as that thought passed through his mind, his body finally gave out, what little protection and strength his Servant had given him in her final moments finally running out.
He lay in the hardened, blackened, desolated soil, staring up at the overcast sky. By now, that spotlight of nobility and perseverance he had seen behind his Servant had seemingly disappeared alongside her. Utterly deflated, his useless arm barely registering the pain anymore, Bedivere could do naught but let the tears flow.
He rolled onto his left side to keep his right arm off the hard ground as he held it tight with his uninjured hand. He cautiously removed his right gauntlet from his hand; cautious to avoid hurting himself any further, and also reluctant to see what he knew he would. Once the iron came loose, his saw the back of his useless hand. Where there had previously been two crimson symbols of command over his Servant, now there were only smudges - as if they had been drawn in ink and were now in the process of being scrubbed away. This confirmed that he was no longer a Master, as his Servant was no longer alive.
Bedivere dropped his gauntlet and let his useless arm flop down into the dirt. Only after doing so did he see the ground beneath where he had lain as Vortigern unleashed his full power against him. The dirt here remained soft and brown. He now looked upon such dirt in an entirely new light. This was no mere dirt, but proof of the life yet within this beautiful land he had dedicated his life to protecting. Life that Queen Boudica had empowered him to protect.
That she had entrusted him to protect.
"In life, I couldn't save my people or my daughters," he remembered her saying, a mere few hours before this battle that would claim her life. "But in this second chance, even one life saved is enough for me. Just one, and I would feel like this life was not wasted."
Bedivere smiled, knowing he could never match the warmth of hers, but hoping she could see him now and know he was trying. Mustering up his remaining strength, Bedivere pushed himself to his feet, retrieved his weapon, and dragged himself out of the crater.
The devastation stretched far, leaving decimated trees and rock-hard earth in the wake of the twisted power of Vortigern. As far as he could tell, however, Boudica had made sure she was the only casualty of it. She had flown them far enough away from the field to keep the human cost to a minimum. She had taken what should have been a war-ending attack and shielded her beloved defenders of Britain from the ruin it wrought. Bedivere almost wondered if she had known, or at least suspected, Vortigern held such power and planned each step of her plan around it.
Whatever the case, though, she had saved him. And in so doing, she had passed her role on to him: Britain was now his to protect. Vortigern was nowhere to be seen from where he stood. This could mean any number of things, but for now, he forced himself to assume he was still out there, targeting the two remaining Masters of Blue in this battle: Sir Gawain and the king. This fresh drive pushed his feet forward.
Boudica, the Queen of Victory, had saved his life for a reason. And that reason was to once more protect his king and his country. With the faith and trust of Britain's greatest king and her greatest queen placed in him, Sir Bedivere made his way back towards Camlann, ready to put this second chance to good use - just as the inspirational Queen Boudica had.
The original title for this chapter was "Queen".
Before I had him use his Noble Phantasm, Vortigern was going to attack Bedivere with his bare hands, and the fight would continue from there:
He felt his body push through the pain and swing for his foe several more times. Even as the dragon delivered blow after blow against him, the smaller man's body was barely moved and only felt the strikes enough to realise they had actually landed. Even his armour remained unscathed against the enemy's slashing claws. Even when Vortigern managed to grab him by the head and throw him directly into Boudica, he barely felt a thing. As she caught him and helped him regain his footing, Bedivere found himself truly in awe of his Servant's abilities. But this was the moment when Vortigern realised Bedivere was protected from his assault, while Boudica had been outside of the crater.