Chapter 109. Eternal Dream
Dawn barely broke through the tightly drawn curtains, when Ron woke up drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. Merciless memories of the previous night tormented his mind. Fragments of events flashed in his memory like lightning - there was Mordred shaking him roughly, there he held the summoning coin in his hand, and then... chaos, destruction, the insane laughter of the Death Eaters, and the long minutes of waiting that turned into eternity, with the flickering of the Command Spells on his hand.
Ron swallowed, looking at his right palm. The Command Spell had left bright red marks, scorching the skin. He touched them with the tips of his fingers, and pain shot through his hand, radiating in every bone.
"You truly were a Master, even if only for a short while," whispered the inner voice.
Silence hung with a funereal weight. No familiar footsteps of Mordred in the corridor, no motherly bustle in the kitchen, no distant cries of the Aurors - nothing. It was as if the world beyond the walls of this room ceased to exist. Ron felt his stomach churn...
A light gloom of the gloomy morning filled the old house on Grimm Square. Dust danced in the sparse sunlight that seeped through the grimy windows. Ron sat on the worn-out bed in the room that once belonged to an unknown member of the Black family.
The threadbare blanket was damp with bitter tears. The August heat that prevailed outside was unfelt here - the House of Black was always dark and unwelcoming. As if the gloomy aura of its master had permeated these walls.
Ron lowered his head, his ginger locks hiding his sunken face. Just a few days ago, he last saw Mordred - at Bill and Fleur's wedding. And now, there was no trace of her...
Knight of Betrayal, a Servant of the Saber class. She was rough, hot-tempered, but fiercely loyal to her ideals. Ron clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms. If only he had mustered the courage to activate the Command Seal and summon Mordred for the sake of salvation! But everything happened so quickly... a blinding flash - and his Command Spells vanished, while she met a terrible death in battle. The door creaked open sharply.
Jeanne slapped Ron on the shoulder, grinning again. "Snap out of it, ginger. Avada Kedavring bastards and saving Britain from Voldemort's cursed dictatorship - that's our trade. Mordred would have approved."
Before he could react, she left the room. The quiet creak of old hinges broke the silence for the second time. In the doorway stood Ginny, guiltily biting her lip.
"Ron, are you here?" she gently entered the room. "I've been looking for you everywhere. What happened?"
Ginny cautiously sat next to him on the bed. Her hand gently rested on his shoulder.
"I know how hard it is for you right now. Mordred was amazing... so headstrong, but so brave. Though, sometimes her stubbornness went too far," Ginny smiled slightly, remembering their clashes with the Knight of Betrayal.
"But she didn't die in vain, and did everything she could to save as many people as possible. No one could have foreseen this outcome. Right now, we all have to stick together, as a family - as if we're at war. Because there are more battles ahead of us..."
Ginny embraced her brother, pressing his head against her shoulder. Her red locks mixed with his hair.
"I know you miss Mordred. But I'm sure she would be proud of you, Ron. Like a true warrior..."
But Ron seemed to be not listening.
"Of all things, Mordred definitely wouldn't have approved of tears for her," whispered Ginny, sitting beside him.
"I know," Ron muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Then why are you crying?" Ginny furrowed her brow in confusion. "She was a walking nightmare for all our enemies."
Ron looked up and stared into the distance, as if seeing something invisible to others.
"I remember what she said that day when I summoned her with the old coin from Arthur's time..." Ron paused, trying to hold back a new wave of tears. "I died without achieving my goal, without realizing my dream..."
Ron's voice dropped to a whisper.
"I've participated in many Holy Grail Wars. Fought countless Servants. Time and time again, I tried to obtain the Holy Grail. But I never reached my goal. I always suffered defeat. Always died..."
Ron fell silent, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. Ginny gently embraced him, soothingly stroking his back.
"I know, Mordred was full of determination. Her spirit couldn't be broken. But even the bravest warriors sometimes need to shed a tear," she said with a sad smile. "Cry, little brother. Let all the pain wash away through your tears. And when they dry up, we will rise again, for her dream."
"It's unfair," Ron whispered, clenching his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms. "I deceived her."
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked cautiously, continuing to gently stroke her brother's back.
Ron fell silent, but his lips moved slightly as if he was listening to a distant voice, known only to him.
"This time it will be different," he remembered his own words during the summoning of Mordred.
In his ears, her clear voice immediately rang, echoing the days gone by:
"I have no doubt about that!"
Ron closed his eyes, and the contours of peace floated before him. He heard her infectious laughter again - the laughter that once sounded in countless battles, and now only brought unbearable pain.
"Oh God, how unfair it is," Ron breathed lifelessly, lowering his head. His shoulders trembled slightly in time with the new wave of sobs.
Ginny hugged him tighter, burying her face in his red mane. She had nothing to say - any words were powerless against the torment of loss. All that remained was to share his pain as closely as possible.
"In what way did you deceive her?" Ginny asked softly, looking into her brother's eyes.
Ron tensely sighed, trying to control the lump in his throat.
"I promised that her previous fate would not be repeated," he stumbled, holding back a new surge of tears. "We can't even imagine what it's like to be a Servant and fight in all those new Holy Grail Wars... And each time, to die without getting what you desire."
Ron looked up, his eyes filled with unbearable pain.
"Neither I nor you can truly understand how much she had to endure. How many times she was reborn, full of determination, only to fall in battle again. Maybe Mordred was the Knight of Betrayal... But no one deserves such a fate - to be endlessly reborn only to face a new death. It's... It's just wrong!"
Ron's voice faltered, and he lowered his head, giving in to desperate sobbing. Ginny held him close, resting her chin on top of his head. Her eyes remained dry, but the pain seeped through her steadfast facade.
"Shh... shh..." she murmured, stroking Ron's back. "I know it was unfair to her. But now, Mordred is finally free from that hell."
Thanks to you, Ron, she was able to leave with dignity, fighting alongside a friend... It was the best thing that could have happened to her.
"But now her own father acknowledged her," a commanding voice echoed from the doorway.
A statuesque figure in a crimson and white dress with golden accents glided into the room. The fabric gracefully clung to her body, accentuating her femininity. However, her posture and gait exuded anything but coquettishness. Every movement radiated nobility and a strength of spirit that was beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. Elen Frankenstein cast a scrutinizing gaze at Ron and Ginny, a hint of arrogance flickering in her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered, revealing a flash of bright green.
"Perhaps it made Mordred happier, if only for a brief moment," Elen pronounced in an authoritative tone.
Ron stared at her with a bewildered look, noting how her elegant hands casually grasped the hem of her dress.
"You were there then... The girl in that red dress..." he slowly uttered, feeling hope ignite within his chest.
Elen raised her chin, studying Ron from above. Her lips curled into a barely perceptible smirk.
"As you suspect, my dear Ron Weasley," her low, velvety voice carried a feigned languor. "Well then, Ron... You have a sharp mind to notice me in the crowd. But for now, we need to address a more serious matter," she declared with complete self-possession.
Elen continued to fix her gaze on Ron, as if his eyes held the key to all the world's secrets. Her voice sounded soft and mysterious, like a whispering wind slipping through the leaves of ancient trees.
Elen luxuriated in the warm interior of Sirius Black's house, savoring the surrounding atmosphere. Frozen portraits of the Black family and their ancestral trophies created an aura of coziness and hospitality, while reminding of the former grandeur of this ancient family.
She took a step forward, her heels tapping a crisp rhythm on the stone floor. Elen adjusted her sleeve, deliberately examining the antique rings adorned with precious gemstones.
But as soon as she stopped, the silence of the bedroom was once again broken by the creak of the door, as Ritsuka Fujimaru entered the room. He was dressed in a white and black Master's suit of Chaldea, but there was something more in his gaze than just an interest in magical sciences. In his hands, he held several thick tomes, but upon noticing Elen and Ron, he paused, seemingly assessing the situation.
"Ron, I heard about what happened..." Ritsuka began, his voice calm but supportive. "Losing a Servant is a heavy blow. Especially considering who she was... and what it could mean for you as a former Master."
Ron nodded, taking a deep breath, and looked at Ritsuka with gratitude for his understanding. At that moment, Elen slowly lifted her head, her gaze filled not only with wisdom but also with a certain mysterious insight.
"In the whirlpool of fate, where light and shadow intertwine as one, it is often difficult to distinguish loss from gain," she began, her words flowing softly, but with an enigmatic undertone. "The great battle, hidden from the eyes of many, is often fought not on the fields of war, but within the hearts of its participants. Sometimes, a shadow that engulfs the light is only the harbinger of a new dawn."
Ron looked at her with confusion, while Ritsuka simply nodded, as if deciphering the profound meaning behind her words. Elen turned her attention back to Ron, her voice full of confidence and support.
"Not everything is as straightforward as it seems at first glance. Time will reveal its truth, and you will see that even in the darkest corners of destiny, there is a glimmer of hope."
"I will become a Master again?" he puzzled.
Her nod - subtle and barely perceptible - was a riddle in itself. In that gesture, agreement and denial merged, leaving Ron in agonizing uncertainty.
"Then we must ensure Ron's safety," Ritsuka's voice sounded with utmost calm and confidence. "But there is something that raises doubts in my mind."
The shadows of the rising sun stretched along the cobblestone streets as he approached the window in one of the upper rooms of the mysterious house on Grimm Square. His gaze focused on the teeming mass of people, who surged towards the government district like a turbulent sea. Their hands trembled with posters, each one a cry of desperation and hope, a bold challenge to those who had seized power.
Elen slowly approached the window, standing beside him. Her silhouette stood out against the falling light. Her deep and piercing gaze merged with the landscape of the approaching evening and the sea of heads below.
Without averting his eyes from the scene outside, Ritsuka broke the silence:
"What do you think, Elen? How much longer will our lover of deadly curses hold on?"
Her response was quiet, but determination resonated in each word:
"They are playing with death," her teeth clenched, as if each word was a struggle, a battle for the right to be heard. "We can no longer help them."
Ritsuka turned to her, a shadow of concern flickering in his gaze, a spark seeking an answer.
"When?" His voice was barely audible.
A second of silence hung in the air before she met his gaze.
"Tonight."
In that moment, the room fell quiet, so quiet that one could almost hear the heartbeat of the story, poised to unfold. Each character, enveloped in their own thoughts, stood on the threshold of decisions that could change everything.
Beyond the confines of that room, the city awaited, tense and ready to explode. Their dialogue, filled with subtext and the weight of what lay ahead, was like a lightning bolt before the storm, a harbinger of grand events that were just around the corner.