"Terrible plan," said the towering, slim man, his words falling like snowflakes—cold upon landing, leaving a chill as they dwindle away.

Ronaldo, worse than a cat chasing a light on the wall, fixated on his empty hands. He pitifully repeatedly whispered in Spanish, "Ididn'tknowshewasyourdaughter."

Slow, deliberately calculated steps circled the man in the chair, scrutinizing him.

"Our work, tarnished."

"Ididn'tknowshewasyourdaughter. Ididn'tknowshewasyourdaughter."

Adranga crouched, his deep cerulean eyes observing the manic episode unfold. Ronaldo detested prolonged silence; it allowed room for thought, plans, and contemplation—especially from this man. When this man thought...

Adranga sighed loudly. "Eliminating the renowned Tohsaka would be advantageous, and beneficial. However, capturing my daughter..."

The quiet was filled with an eerie, clock-like ticking, mimicking the soft drumming of the Magus' scarred fingertips on his thighs. Dark blotches seeped through the walls, sliding down, swirling into the crevices, drawing nearer to the man whose bonds hummed with purple lightning.

"...Was invaluable."

A faint, haunting chorus enveloped Ronaldo, his fingers wrinkling, twisting, and snapping in unnatural directions. He tried to thrash in his chair, but his vision burst and flashed with colors, his ignited flesh in the humid box that was his room, refusing to listen. Dark magic restrained him, the ooze at his boots dissolving the leather and creeping into his skin.

His flesh squelched, his gaping mouth bearing no sound, as the disorienting darkness gave way to marching, demonic figures. The souls of those he had experimented on with the man now standing arms crossed behind him began to encircle him; their disfigured hands joined by strands of electricity, chanting an eerily joyful opera tune.

The vocalists' volume rose and fell, their harmonies erratic as they melded into his exposed flesh, contouring into irregular shapes. They sang with joy, tearing through various layers of skin and bone. Meanwhile, a sludge both scalding hot and icy cold began its infiltration at Ronaldo's toes, winding its way toward the ultimate prize.

"St-o-op." The man slurred. The room warped to a chaotic rhythm. Vomit scorched his throat, swirling with the music like a carousel. His organs wailed, rotting at the core in agonizing delay.

Through hazy vision, Ronaldo glanced at Adranga, the emotionless shadow, as his mana was drained by the dark magic consuming his decomposing organs. The origin of this nightmare eluded the fading Magus.

He wandered without direction through the fragments of his existence. Could this signify his impending death? Why did he perceive himself in the third person, observing the eerie pleasure of his research and its potential? It began with the desire to validate the potential of America, and the vigor of his domestic creativity.

Adranga unlocked the gateway to opportunities. The Clock Tower acknowledged his vision—a vision now spilling from his throat, trailing down his chin into the abyss of his death

—

"This happened while we fought Berserker?!"

Rin's expectations of dismantling the protections around the mental institution were eliminated, much like Berserker's Master.

The remnants of an office were painted with blood mixed with dark sludge. Center stage was the massacre of Ronaldo's body, slumped in a chair, like rotten onions, identifiable only by the birthmark hanging from his shredded calf.

The targeted Magus was not famous, but he was respected for his scientific intelligence. Whoever sniped him was meticulous in ensuring that the foul odor and the brutality of his downfall adorned his last refuge. It was a personal and vile act and a nasty one at that.

Even Saber averted her eyes from the carnage. "Despicable. How can such cruelty and malevolence even be justified?"

Justice, was a peculiar choice of words under the circumstances. Rin believed she had become desensitized due to the vicious monstrosities she witnessed committed in the 4th and even the 5th wars, yet this was wicked in nature. No words could describe the lingering stench and the palpable, residual hatred in the air.

To put it bluntly, it repulsed her. Gave her the ick.

With her arms crossed over her chest, she shook her head in disgust. The thought of reporting to Waver and the Association that one of their three targets had been annihilated could either please them or cause annoyance. She felt a mild relief that she wasn't responsible for this one; after learning about his experiments, she would have gladly torn his head off herself.

She let out another huff, her cheeks puffing out as she spiraled into her thoughts, turning to take one last look in case...she...had...missed...something.

"Rin, what is it?"

Saber's voice, filled with concern, was overshadowed by the sharp ringing in Rin's ears. The sick, intoxicating feeling wasn't just emanating from the corpse—though it was mostly that—but the air was also souring with resentment directed at her.

The animosity dripping from the ceiling conveyed a clear message, spelled out in blood and black sludge:

"Return what's mine."

This revelation forced Rin to reconsider her understanding of the truth and what she was needed to freggin do about it.

—

Diarmuid observed his Master's condition, for what was almost the millionth time.

He monitored her breathing for signs of residual possession but found none. Exhaustion was her only symptom of battle, which was a relief. It appeared that intensely wielding her power was indeed an effort, just as she had initially informed him.

Tilting his head back to gaze at the moon through the tree canopy, Lancer's thoughts turned to Haley resolutely at the forefront of the battle. Initially, he had concerns about her grasp of warfare and her tender heart. However, those anxieties dissipated by the mesmerizing star growing brighter with confidence, embodying and presenting the potential of the trust shared between them.

Was this happiness? The Heroic Spirit, once destined to be stomped by fate now glimpsing a chance at such joy, all thanks to the partnership with this young lady. The grin he wore—once a mask of agony under the night sky in the 4th war—remained unshaken. Where the 4th war had left him languishing, he now thrived and swelled with pride.

Especially after that glorious battle.

He knew he shouldn't dwell on such thoughts, not while his Master's peace had been recently disturbed. Strong and capable she may be, she tended to avoid conflict for sound reasons. Even with his deep regard for her, he recognized her involvement had been coerced from the start of the war, and she had once admonished him to trust in their teamwork despite it.

Reflecting on the past—before the Master of Saber had compelled his Lady's alliance—she had experienced these terrors previously. He was concerned, yet he had never probed into the cause as he intended. Distraction after distraction, the concern slipped from his mind until it re-emerged amidst battle, and now, as Haley murmured in her slumber.

Diarmuid knelt and gingerly nudged his Master's trembling shoulder, whispering, "Master, it's time to awaken."

"Mmm," Haley stirred and shifted, turning to face him with a smile, "Hi."

Her smile was magnetic, drawing him in as he mirrored it, "Hello. How do you fare?"

"Terrible, but... wait," she rolled over, crawling to where he knelt and carefully but thoroughly examined his side, "Are you okay? That wound, it was...bad"

Her concern was heartwarming. "I am well. I had no doubts when allowing such a wound that you would be capable of tending to it."

Surprise slightly widened her eyes, and a soft blush crept over her cheeks before she turned away, "O-oh." She quickly recovered, her giddy grin returning as she faced him again, "I'm glad!"

"Having said that, twas the first time I've witnessed you deeply in battle. I must commend your skillful use of abilities; it was impressive."

Her reply was a mere whisper, "Hearing that from you, that means a lot," filled with delight, not lost on Diarmuid even as she shrank into her shoulders and hugged her knees. "I'm just glad we made it out okay. Where are Rin and Saber?"

Diarmuid recounted the scant events following her collapse, highlighting the peculiar sensation he experienced as Berserker vanished. He found it difficult to detail the ominous presence, given its transient nature just before they retreated.

"We'll have to tell Rin," Haley murmured, her stare anchored to the floor while she slumped further. "What do you think they're doing?"

To Diarmuid, it was a wonder. They had triumphed in battle against a Servant, yet it seemed likely that the Master was concealed within the building. It was common for Mages to stay out of sight, letting their Servants undertake their dirty work.

The thought nearly manifested as an unnatural sneer, but Lancer dismissed the twinge of frustration. Circumstances had changed, and he reasoned that if Saber's Master had not returned, there must be a valid explanation. Trusting in that, he turned his attention to a more unsettling issue he wanted to address with his Master.

Haley was unusually quiet, her head bowed so her hair cascaded over her shoulders. She fiddled with the buttons on her coat and bit her lower lip. He saw the sorrow in her weary eyes and sensed she was immersed in troubled thoughts.

"Master, if I may," Diarmuid began, leaning closer as she looked up with troubled eyes, "I have a question for you, but I'm concerned it might be intrusive."

"It's okay, you know you can ask me anything. What is it?"

For a moment, Diarmuid hesitated to respond, not wanting to be insensitive. May his suspicions be incorrect; the last thing he desired was to tug on the tape concealing her past and tear it open unnecessarily. Nevertheless, the Lady had always supported him, even if it meant confronting the stark reality that came with it.

With this in mind, he chose to be clear and forthcoming with his speculation, "You are plagued by terrors, and they have manifested during that possession. I had not inquired before, but now I do so out of concern for you." He lowered his head, "However, if you prefer not to discuss it, I will not mention it again."

Haley blinked several times, shooting her attention elsewhere. Her discomfort was evident in the way her body tensed, her fingernails pressing into her arms. Diarmuid regretted his question. Should have waited until she had time to compose herself, or perhaps Saber's Master could have posed the question more tactfully.

Before he could descend into self-doubt or offer an excessive apology for his impertinence, his Master closed her eyes. "It's not possible, or at least, it's very difficult to tamper with my mind. But this was different. That entity, it just..."

She drew her legs in closer, as if the pressure anchored her to reality rather than the memory that he was sure terrorized her. "It didn't invade my mind. It took over my body, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst of it was how it projected a terrifying memory of me from someone else right in front of me."

A memory of her from another? Diarmuid gently pried her hands from the indentations they had made in her skin, securing them in his.

"Whose memory was it?"

Burying her head deeper into her thighs, her fingers pressed into his rough palms.

Vaguely did she touch upon her past, speaking of the 'torture' before swiftly steering the conversation elsewhere. Nearby, the whir of passing cars filled the silence as Diarmuid waited patiently. He remained steady as she took deep breaths to compose herself. At last, she said,

"My father's."

—

Battling with Rin allowed Haley to momentarily dismiss the vivid nightmare within the bounded field, but the terror of glimpsing into her father's subconscious relentlessly haunted her once her eyes closed. Her flesh was reduced to mere dog food, yet her father remained indifferent to her agony, showing only the detachment he harbored towards her. His daughter.

This obliterated any remaining respect she had for the man, gnawing a vast hole in her gut. The loving father she once knew had vanished in his quest to unearth the root to retrieve her mother's soul. His journey through magic, experiments, and other obscurities had sucked away his humanity.

"It hurts, Diarmuid," Confessing this to Diarmuid shattered the last of her fortitude, as tears hotly rose. "He's hurt me, and he doesn't care. I'm suffering, and no one cares. Why doesn't anyone care?"

She couldn't meet her Hero's solemn gaze, finding these questions pointless. They were directed at no one, but also everyone and the universe, questioning what she had done to deserve such hatred. Her family was non-existent, her single friendship concealed within a home she could only visit in passing. Sleep provided no respite when nightmares replayed the torture she endured. A Grail War exposed her location, yanking her noose towards the soulless menace that was once her father.

Hopelessness poked at her shoulder as a reminder; Haley wandered aimlessly, without direction, unable to secure a winning path to security. Yet she carried on, drawing a smile on her visage as she moved from one place to another, aiding others and erasing the loneliness that accompanied it.

"I have nothing, and I'm trying, trying so hard but…what am I going to do? I…I don't know what to do."

As she choked on the grief dumping from her quivering lips, Diarmuid's sudden embrace caused her to startle. Her hands instinctively pushed against his chest as she recoiled. His body was an unyielding stone, yet the firmness of his arms eventually calmed her reflex to flee.

"I'm sorry," Diarmuid soothed, "My words are not as intricately woven as yours have been, but I swear it, I shall be here for you. A Knight's vow is forever, and I am to be your sword, your shield and…your friend, so long as you desire it."

Diarmuid didn't need to utter a word. His care was evident as he embraced her firmly, providing a river of support into which she poured her sorrow. That's all that mattered, as her pain did not subside, rather it intensified as the floodgates of grief she had tightly sealed burst open while she gripped his back. The ugliest sob overwhelmed her damaged vocal cords, but it didn't cease as she loudly cried into his sternum.

"It'll be alright." Diarmuid's support was unwavering as he gently ran his fingers through her tousled hair. "Instruct me on what ways I can ensure your contentment as you need, and we shall get through it. "

Haley nodded, and after what seemed an eternity of weeping, separated from the security of her Heroic Spirit. She brushed the tears from her eyelashes and cheeks with the back of her hand and let out a sigh. "I don't know the answer to that, but..." she said, forcing a smile that, with her efforts, was sincere. "...Thank you. I'm really happy that you're here, I couldn't ask for anyone else but you."

She found herself pinning her focus on the beautiful fabric of her jacket, particularly after the pause. Yet, she hoped the tone in her knight's reply conveyed that he was touched. "And I as well. It's an honor to serve and be there for you, my Lady."

Haley giggled; she couldn't pinpoint what aspect of the Knight's steadfast chivalry amused her, yet it momentarily suppressed the deeper sorrow stabbing her heart. Because in the upcoming future, their shared time together would cease when Diarmuid returned to the Throne. If she survived the war and Rin permitted, she would have to proceed onward.

Alone.

And that terrifying truth pained her more than anything else because she didn't want to lose him, foolish as that might be.

I really want to thank those who stuck around for this long wait of an update. The fact that you all still want to read this and encourage me to continue means more so much to me, especially when I feel like I'm drowning in depression.

As for this chapter, I cried like a pathetic baby when writing Haley's portion. I resonated a little too much with the hardships she was opening up to Diarmuid about. As for him, he better keep supporting that beautiful soul that is Haley because she needs a damn shoulder to cry on. She bottled it in for so long, and now she's working through knowing Diarmuid's presence is temporary. Too bad the bugger himself seemed to have forgotten in that moment of support.

Those last lines hurt to type.

I hope the beginning also displayed how horrific and terrifying her dad really has become and gave some insight into his backstory...and hers.

Thank you all so much for reading! Please let me know what you think. 3