Saber Alter felt empty, her features blank.

Donned in a mere black dress, she sat alone in Camelot's throne room. Her armour wasn't worn, and was instead callously left by the side as she if cared little for self-preservation or protection. Honestly, a part of her had just stopped caring.

It was all the same.

Everything was playing out all the same as it did before in her original timeline.

Tired and bitter eyes glanced upon the vaunted grand hall of her throne room. The decorations, lavish long curtains and shields adorned with coat-of-arms hung on the walls, doing little to liven the atmosphere.

It was hollow. All of it.

Hollow glory, hollow honours, hollow promises, and beyond the simple hollowness of her empty throne room, was a heart of glass close to shattering.

Things should have been different. She'd tried to better herself knowing what would await if she fell into old habits, and yet here she was now. This was her alternative record, a second chance if you will, and now there was nothing different.

This road already trod; she knew of its ending.

Pursing her lips, she straightened her posture and readied herself for confrontation. Her sword lay by her side, carefully placed in a way that she could grab it at a moment's notice.

From the moment Shirou had left her and she'd been informed of Morgan leading a troop of Knights to strike the castle, Saber Alter was already numb.

It was quite likely that her own knights had allowed Morgan's forces in, preventing the need and difficulty of sieging. This all just went to show how alone she was. Even her own subordinates would turn her back on her.

All she could rely on was herself.

In any case, she'd made her way to the throne room and simply waited. Morgan's target was her, and she'd surely come. Any form of rallying her own troops and forming an opposing force was utterly crushed in her dejection.

She had nothing. She was nothing.

Perhaps her own existence was a mistake to begin with?

Look at her. This was her second chance, and still where was the progress?

The castle shook from the sound of battery, closed wooden gates smashed apart by battering rams. The noise of pieces of shrapnel and debris clattering on stone tiles echoed even from where she sat.

Blankly, she gazed at her side where Shirou had always proven himself to stand, now vacant.

Why? Why did you leave me too?

Her hands shook, her features twisting from a type of mental anguish that was quickly smothered. She chuckled to herself derisively, laughing in dark amusement of what was to come while feeling like crying all the same.

What a sad existence she was.

So be it then.

As the laughing came to an end, and the silence returned to the hollow chamber, her features froze over. Reaching for her sword, she grabbed it by the hilt, and laid the flat side to rest over her thighs. Her attention then focused fully on the door in waiting.

"What a pity, I see that you are closing yourself off again."

Saber Alter shifted her attention to Merlin who appeared by her side with a disappointed shake of his head. His staff tapped lightly over the tiled ground and produced a small patch of glowing flowers, and yet their light could not hope to penetrate the negativity pervading the room.

"You know not of what you speak of," she choked out through grief-stricken chords. Her face though, remained unchanged, doll-like, bereft of feeling. "He left me, as all the rest did."

Merlin frowned impeccably, rounding to face his difficult student in chagrin, but not daring to rile her at this stage.

"And you are obviously not listening to reason," he said ever so softly like a parent to their kin. "I told you, but you really shouldn't be too quick to assume. You're acting as if all of this has already happened before. You hardly place your trust in others, the sole exception being Shirou who's never so much as let you down. This was one time. How can you so quickly decide his guilt?"

Experience. Saber Alter knit her brows.

She'd trusted Lancelot, Gawain, her knights, each never truly failing her, but in the end, they too left her in her original timeline. What made Shirou any different? Surely, he'd grown tired of her and left her all the same.

He'd made an oath to her, and now it was clear that he'd broken it…

Negativity was practically bleeding from Saber Alter's demeanor, turning it harsh and unforgiving.

"Like I said, perhaps there was a misunderstanding," Merlin insisted. "Memories are delicate things, and even people can forget them. It just takes time to recal-"

"He called my name. He knew me," Saber Alter replied in monotone, muscles tensing. It was as good a confirmation if anything.

Merlin didn't stop persisting.

"My King, you've kept your emotions suppressed for so long that they are cloudi-"

"Why aren't my sister's knights here yet? Did they not plan to attack?" Saber Alter cut Merlin off, her heart growing heavier and heavier the more Merlin tried to reason. It was because she truly wished to believe in his honeyed words, but knew well enough that she wouldn't be able to endure it he was wrong. So, she subconsciously wouldn't consider it at all.

"Trying to distract yourself I see," Merlin accused in the sudden silence.

"Merlin," she said icily, fingers curling into a fist as she grew testier and testier.

Merlin grimaced, but moved to comply. However, a contemplative expression crossed his features when he seemed to sense something.

He glanced from Saber Alter, then to the closed large doors of the throne room.

"Interesting," he murmured before following through with his King's will.

He lifted his staff and tapped the butt of it gently onto the ground. The flowers by his feet lifted from a sudden breeze and formed a circle portrait suspended before the both of them. The inside of the portrait was murky, as if staring at clouds.

Soon though, the murkiness began to clear and images were shown.

Saber Alter was initially indifferent to what was shown before her, but this changed rapidly.

She sat up, her breath hitching without her even realizing it. Her eyes were dilated, and a tingling sensation spreading from her head to her toes.

The entrance of her throne room was being shown along with Morgan and the group of knights she was leading. They were all standing right there directly in front of the door to her throne, but they didn't move.

T-That armour…

A black knight stood in their way.


The sound of his sword dragging against the ground was the only thing Shirou could hear as he marked a line separating him from the others.

His heart hammered in his chest, his bearings similar to that of a man walking to his final rest, resolute, yet firm. Black was the colour he donned. Riveted steel plates, flowing tassets, and rounded pauldrons gave way to a sleek plate armour that clanked with each step.

The sword dragged over the ground was neither renowned or of quality make, but something he merely pulled from a sword rack in the castle's armoury.

He knew for a fact that he could have Traced something better, something stronger, but this wasn't a struggle about power. In that case, he wouldn't have hesitated to use a Noble Phantasm.

This was instead about sincerity.

The people he was going to go up against for Saber Alter's sake, he knew each and every one of them.

Noble Lancelot, knight of the lake, stalwart leader and righteous to a fault.

Gallant Gawain, knight of the sun, proud brother and virtuous.

Tristan, Bedivere, Percival, Agravain, Gareth, and many more he'd long since saw as brothers-in-arms. He would stand opposed to them, knowing the reason they opposed Saber Alter had justification: She'd harmed too many, her reputation atrocious.

To even think of using a weapon that could truly harm them was out of the question, but so too was not opposing them. Therefore, he chose middle ground, the standard sword in his hands reinforced to perfection.

The more pressing reason he couldn't Trace a stronger weapon though, was for no other reason than that he likely couldn't. Whatever Merlin had done to jog his memories, his inner world was a mess while Agatha worked to sort things out, leaving him with little energy to expend.

Yet so what? His physical abilities would be enough.

'Steel is my body, and fire is my blood.'

His body was bathed in the blood dragons, his durability able to shrug of sharpened steel and blunt force trauma. He was no push over.

Standing firm before the doors of the throne room he could sense Saber Alter residing within, he braced himself for the inevitable.

He effectively barred the way; his message clear.

None would pass.

All that remained was for him to wait for the arrival of Morgan and the very people he once called comrades.

Hearing footsteps, he equipped his black rimmed visor, covering his head entirely such that only a dim red glow bled through the slit of his eyes. This armour was enchanted with obscurity, and was created during a time he had to carry out certain 'duties' so as to not tarnish Saber Alter's name.

The fabled Black Knight, notorious killer, and slaughterer of the wicked. With him around, Saber Alter's name likely wouldn't have fallen as low as it did now, but he digressed.

"I am the Black Knight of the King!" He announced, voice distorted as Morgan and the rest finally came within sight. Notably though, Mordred was not with them. "None shall pass!"

Morgan called the party to a stop, Lancelot and the rest evidently bewildered at opposition, granted the fact that no one had truly tried to stop them until now spoke volumes for their cause.

No one was supposed to be on Saber Alter's side….

"Step aside, sir knight!" Gawain boldly stepped forward, trying to reason. "Do you not know who it is that you're defending?!"

Shirou shook his head. "I will not move. I beseech you all to leave. You are not welcome here."

Gawain frowned, Morgan observing the situation silently. If anyone could infer what was going on, it was her, but oddly she remained quiet, not calling him out or moving into action. Likely, she was saving her energy for Merlin.

However, the other knights weren't as composed. Each had their grievances with Saber Alter, and weren't going to be dissuaded. This was the same with Lancelot and the rest who fought on behalf of their fellow countrymen.

"Then please excuse the discourtesy, but we will be making our way through," Lancelot stepped forward now.

Shirou braced himself, taking in one breath, then two before drawing his blade and steadying his stance.

Tension flooded the air, but the resoluteness surrounding Shirou's figure didn't waver. It was respectable; the loyalty of it all, striking deeply at the knights before him and those watching.

"I am the King's sword," Shirou murmured lowly. "Let none bar the way. Let justice be meted. I will never fall until the point my King no longer needs me!"

Magical energy swelled around him, bolstering him with what little reserve he could muster that wasn't being directed at stabilizing the Ashton Anchor within him.

It was one against many.

Passivity wasn't the answer.

He charged, sword raised, body poised.

He fought not for honour, or vain glories, but by following the direction of his heart, and this was what made him strong. An unbreakable will, was an infallible wall.

Gawain's sword came down first, striking fast from a horizontal slash.

Hard and heavy, Shirou dared not brace himself against Gawain's gorilla-like brute strength. Swerving, he narrowly dodged the strike, but failed to account for the follow up.

Sparks grated as Excalibur Galatine tore into his armour.

Shirou was never the best swordman. Sure, he could defeat the common knight or soldier, but against the skill of those that formerly comprised the Knights of the Round, he wasn't their match.

Therefore…he wouldn't make this a battle of skill.

Digging his feet into the ground, he hardened his muscles, catching Galatine's blade by the groove of his arm.

"W-What in-"

Gawain could barely voice his surprise before a punch to the face sent him flying to the other side of the room.

Shirou didn't grow complacent at the success. Instead, he backpedaled while raising his sword to guard against Lancelot's assault with Arondight.

Lancelot's strikes weren't as brutish as Gawain's, but were precise and focused instead. When he swung, it was with the single-minded purpose of letting his sword reach its target.

Clang!

Metal clashed again and again, Shirou and Lancelot caught up in a heated back and forth exchange.

"H-He's holding up against sir Lancelot," Gareth uttered at the side, Agravain merely observing.

In truth, Shirou was just barely holding on. Lancelot's technique was so great that the man couldn't help but exploit the openings Shirou purposely revealed. This allowed Shirou to know where Lancelot would surely strike before hand.

Shirou's sword would always be in time to counter Lancelot's own. However, this couldn't make up for the difference in quality. Each block chipped away at the edge of Shirou's sword.

Gawain was one thing as he now simply stood off to the side while rubbing at his face, but Lancelot was relentless.

Sure enough, a distinct wrenching noise echoed before the sword in Shirou's grip shattered.

"Yield," Lancelot said sternly, pressing Arondight's edge beneath Shirou's neck.

Silence stretched, but under Lancelot's incredulous eyes, Shirou stepped forward rather than back.

"Sorry, but you'd have to kill me," Shirou head butted Lancelot, disorientating the knight enough to get a good kick onto the man's sternum.

Lancelot flew across the room, crashing his back into a wall much like Gawain did from Shirou's reinforced strike.

Tentative silence fell over the area, all regarding him and how crazy he was being.

Blood dripped down from a wound on his neck. Dragon skin or not, Arondight's edge was more than enough to cut. Just a little closer, and his jugular would have been cut.

He would have died.

From the direction of the throne room, there were muffled sounds of someone placing their hands on the gate's door handle, yet the gates didn't open.

Shirou could image what his current appearance looked like to others, but even still, this was how it should be.

"None shall pass," he repeated firmly.

His determination and drive had won the respect of the knights of the round as Shirou knew it would. They were his friends and acquaintances. He knew them all too well.

"Why?! Surely you know of the King's atrocities?!" Bedivere yelled, ever considerate.

"This is madness!" Gawain grimaced. "A knight such as yourself shouldn't be serving such a tyrant!"

"…and who decided that?" Shirou's question stunned everyone, captivating them to stare at his bruised figure standing strong regardless. Even without a sword, he raised his arms up into fists. "The king is a tyrant, the king is evil, the king is this, the king is that- enough with it all! None of you even truly know the king, but are so quick to condemn!"

Gawain and the rest faltered, taken aback at the sheer intensity and knowing in Shirou's tone.

"The King has killed!" Someone argued.

"The King was grieving!" Shirou hammered back.

"The King razed entire villages! The blood of the innocent stains the throne! The King is not worthy. Even the sword in the stone has turned its back on her!"

"…" There really was no reply to that.

Caliburn wasn't broken, and yet Excalibur Morgan was the weapon Saber Alter wielded.

Saber Alter truly had gone too far in her pursuit of vengeance.

"Even so," Shirou whispered under heavy scrutiny. "She is my King."

Tensions were flooding again at the admission. At the back, Tristan readied his harp, at the front, Gawain, Lancelot, Agravain, Percival, and even Gareth and Bedivere were getting serious.

They all truly saw and believed Morgan to be a worthier ruler than Saber Alter. In this case, Saber Alter's own isolationist policies had allowed Morgan the opportunity to obtain their loyalty first.

This wasn't looking good. Their determination wouldn't be swayed so easily.

If they truly fought, many were going to die, and it wasn't something he wished to see.

It was right here in this very dilemma that an answer came.

A breeze of flowers drifted throughout the room, the scent of lilacs and roses pervading the area.

Merlin. Shirou couldn't help but note.

The wizard's timing was truly impeccable.

From the flowers, a particular sword was erected directly before Shirou's reach. It was a sword that everyone knew all too well, and one that could decide the fate of the entire country.

"That sword is…"

Caliburn.

So that's what you're planning, Shirou didn't need much time to understand what Merlin intended for him to do.

Under everyone eyes, both hands grasped Caliburn's hilt and effortlessly pulled it up in a single motion.

Even if Saber Alter could no longer wield it, didn't mean that Shirou couldn't. He too was someone that the sword once recognized; something only known by Saber Alter and Merlin himself.

Now, this secret was revealed all at once.

"He drew the sword in the stone!" Gasps of exclamation and disbelief resounded. Hushed whispers and discussion followed.

Complicated expressions marred Lancelot, Gawain, and every former knight of the round's faces.

"Leave," Shirou tried again, voice pleading. "You all have no place here, so please, just leave us alone."

No one dared rebut, even Morgan bit down on her lips at this sudden revelation.

The weight of Shirou's words was entirely different now as compared to before.

Morgan sighed, seeing the state of her knights. Morale was dropping, justification to fight to the death even more so. How could someone chosen by the sword of selection defend a truly vile person?

"Fall back," she ordered.

None disobeyed. Each and every one of them had only a single question in their mind that dulled their resolves.

'Does this make the black knight the king?'

The matters of Camelot's ascension suddenly grew more complicated. Now, evidently wasn't the time for rash actions.

Everyone soon began leaving in mass, Morgan shooting Shirou with a deep stare, elevating him in status to 'competitor.'

When no one was left and only the silence of the hollow castle's walls remained, Shirou cast aside his sword and armour, before kneeling on the hard ground.

He faced the direction of the throne room, knowing full well who was standing just behind those closed doors.

Without hesitation, he inclined his back, bowed his head, and remained in this position to wait for however long it took. It didn't matter if it was uncomfortable, or if he'd sustained injuries. To him, the only thing that truly mattered was the person worth more to him than anything else.

He knelt, and continued to wait without so much as a twitch.

Minutes passed, then hours. It had gotten to the point where it was practically the middle of the night already, moonlight pooling through along with a cold breeze.

Ever so slowly, the main doors of the central throne room creaked open. From the gap, Saber Alter peeked her head out before gradually slipping the rest of her body through.

The dark made it difficult to observe anything, and perhaps this was the point.

Saber Alter was trembling.

She stared at him, and he stared back in the low lighting. Her features were carefully cold, expressionless, a far cry from what he saw when he first woke up with her by his side.

There was no doubt that she was hurting, closing herself off. He'd seen it numerous times before, but never truly directed at him until now.

What a fool he'd been.

She spoke nothing, and neither did he; the silence between them, a chasm that he could only imagine was growing deeper.

He'd broken his promise when he'd suddenly left her alone.

He knew this Arturia better than anyone- knew how difficult it was to allow anyone into her heart. She never trusted easily, and obviously would never forgive easily.

He loved her all the same. This was his promised miracle, and her current state- something he'd long since attributed to his own making and the changes he wrought in her timeline.

He still loved her even still, desperately so. For her, he could give the world, just as for him, she'd pillaged, plundered, and murdered in her anguish at his passing.

With his return, it should have been a joyful reunion. He'd seen the way her features lit up in his presence, breaking the common mold of neutrality and indifference. She cared, and she showed it even if it was clumsy and awkward. Hell, she'd even neglected to remove her armour when she held him prior, the sleek metal the worst kind of surface to rest his head on. By all accounts, she very clearly missed him dearly, and how did he reciprocate?

The frigid stance that Saber Alter exuded in her demeanor spoke volumes.

How ironic that he was the one to cause her such grief even now.

"Your Knight has failed you…" He bowed his head in self derision, his forehead smacking so hard into the ground that it cracked, bruising his skin.

This simple action had him miss the quivering of Saber Alter's lips as she stared upon him in muted distress, her hands balling into fists, eyes misty as they passed over every wound.

Shirou may have bathed in the blood of a Dragon, granting him draconic properties and steel-like skin, but Lancelot, Gawain, and the others wielded sacred weapons that could pierce even the toughest hide.

Cuts and bruises could be seen colouring the leathers that Shirou was dressed in beneath the armour. Some were scabbed, but the vast majority had blood trickling down to form a pool beneath his knees that long since dried in the hours he remained kneeling. He never uttered a sound, knowing full well that she would definitely hear him.

Perhaps…Merlin had been right? Was it really a betrayal if Morgan's magic had messed with Shirou's memories? Moreover, Saber Alter herself knew that her emotional state wasn't the calmest when it all happened.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, but her reservations and doubts continued to hold her back. Like Shirou already knew, it was difficult for her to trust, and even more difficult to forgive.

The silence stretched on before Shirou slowly raised his head to stare up at a still neutral face, not knowing how strenuous it was for Saber Alter to forcibly maintain it.

In the distance, Merlin was shaking his head at the naivety of it all. He among all could sense beyond the barriers of expression and see emotion for what it was. The same overwhelming scent of sweetness exuded from the both of them. Saber Alter would never be able to hide this fact from him. If she truly no longer cared, or had closed herself off fully at Shirou's perceived betrayal, she never would have stepped foot out of the throne room. Yet, here she was now.

Merlin snorted. What a dishonest student he had.

Meanwhile, Shirou could still see no changes over Saber Alter's expression, greatly discouraging him. Even for him, Saber Alter's brand of indifference was difficult to read.

Perhaps, she really wasn't moved.

What was he expecting?

He'd hurt her, made her suffer. Maybe even his own presence was its own form of torment.

So be it, then.

Shakily, he stood up onto his feet. He gave a wry smile, strained with bittersweet sentiments.

"For what it's worth, I remembered something only after I'd already left," he whispered aloud, staring right into unblinking eyes.

He wobbled on his feet, exhaustion and self mockery making him unsteady. However, his resoluteness still bled through.

"I made an oath, and I will stand by it even if you can no longer bear to see me."

Saber Alter shuddered. In her role as King, she knew full well how to differentiate truth from lie. Her eyes flickered, mouth drying at the implication, then the realization of the rest of what her Shirou had said.

He would stay in the shadows, never to appear before her again. The meaning was clear, and it twisted Saber Alter's stomach into pained knots.

"I am your dark knight," Shirou continued morosely, each word hammering at the ice surrounding Saber Alter's heart, her breaths growing faint.

"I will protect you. I will stay by you. I will remain steadfast."

He kept staring right into her eyes, shivers traveling down her spine from the words laced with sorrow and melancholy.

"…Until the point that you yourself no longer need me. I guess that time is now, then?"

Saber Alter's features utterly cracked, her voice fleeing her, but it was sadly interpreted differently.

Shirou sucked in a deep and shaky breath.

He nodded stiffly before turning around and hobbling away without another word.

"Ah," a gasp escaped Saber Alter's lips, her hand stretching out to reach for him, but her fingers touching only air.

She opened her mouth to call, to speak, but only when it was too late. Shirou was more affected at her 'dismissal' then he let on, if how fast he was moving was any indication. Saber Alter only managed a feeble croak as he jumped down the castle walls and onto the back of a flaming bird that suddenly zipped him towards the horizon.

He was gone.

A swirl of flowers congregated beside her before Merlin appeared grimacing.

"Was this outcome worth your stubbornness?" Merlin questioned, eyes piercing. "He truly loved you, you foolish king. He was sincere while you remained dishonest even until the end. Another test then? Was that what you were doing? I warned you before, but a person can only endure so much."

No answer.

Saber Alter's arms fell limply be her side, her complexion paling for the worst.

She had no rebuttal, only regret. Lancer Alter had told her time after time that Shirou was different, that they could trust him, and yet she allowed her insecurities to get the best of her again.

Why? Why did it all turn out like this?

Oh, she knew. She knew it better than anyone as to why.

Her heart was a fragile thing enshrouded in frost, so as to no longer feel the sorrow of rejection.

The blow of Shirou's supposed 'betrayal' was too big; her emotions in disarray and allowing her biased skepticism to affect her judgments. Her actions were more of a subconscious mechanism to keep her safe rather than her true thoughts and feelings…and to this result.

Tears trickled down her cheeks.

Why couldn't she just be more honest with herself?! Why was she like this?!

"Love," Merlin mumbled off to the side, unable to tell what the future of this realm may bring any longer. "It's a powerful thing, but it can make fools of even the most rational."

Saber Alter fell to her knees, swallowing down her sobs and failing.

/-/

This was the realm of a Dark Knight, the oath he'd sworn, and a King trying to fit the pieces back together. Through her own efforts, the people would surely see the girl that lay beneath the frosty exterior, and see her for who she was. Love is a powerful thing.

-To be continued.


Alrighty, so ends the set up for realm of Dark Knight, something of a prologue if you will. I'll be moving onto establish the backgrounds of the other alternative records next, and then have a few intermissions to move the viewings of the original Fate-In Time forward to the reunion arc and beyond. From thereafter, the endings of each record will be concluded one by one; the order of which will be decided on popularity.

Thanks for reading! And thanks to my newest patrons: Pixel GM, Zanark, and James!

Next update: Vasto of White

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