Lou Emiya was happy.

That wasn't something she got to say often.

School hadn't been too bad today — a rare enough miracle on its own. The other kids hadn't been as mean as usual, and no one had called her weird or pushed her around. When the final bell rang, she hadn't even needed to wait long. A nice lady had come to pick her up, someone she didn't recognize but who smiled warmly and seemed kind.

And now, she was riding a pony.

A pony.

Lou clung to its thick, fluffy mane as it trotted down an empty street, moving faster than any horse she'd ever seen. Wind whipped through her hair, and she laughed with sheer delight as the creature surged ahead, its muscles rippling beneath her.

But there was something strange about this pony.

For one thing, it was orange — bright orange, like a sunset. Tufts of fur framed its face like a lion's mane, and Lou was almost sure she'd glimpsed sharp fangs when it had yawned earlier. She didn't remember ever seeing a pony with fangs.

The thought crossed her mind, fleeting and distant, that maybe this wasn't a pony at all. But it was hard to care when she was having so much fun.

"Not too far now, Yperifáneia. Just circle around and keep her entertained," the woman called from down the street.

The "pony" — Yperifáneia? — made a sound like a deep, rumbling purr and turned sharply, circling back toward the woman. Lou giggled, clutching its mane tighter as they picked up speed.

"Ms.!" she called out, grinning. "Are these your pets?"

The woman shook her head, her long white hair glinting in the light.

"They're not my pets," she said gently. "They're my comrades. My friends. That's how I treat them. After all, we've been together for quite some time." She smiled. "Do you like them?"

"I love them!" Lou beamed. "Yper—Yperfi—uh, she's so fast! I've never seen a pony run like this! Can she fly, too?"

The woman laughed, and her voice was like wind chimes or jingle bells — light and musical and strange.

"I'm afraid not," she said, reaching out to stroke the creature's mane as it passed. The "pony" leaned into her touch with a soft huff. "This particular species is better suited to the ground. But there are creatures that can fly — and you could even ride one someday."

Lou's eyes went wide. "Really? What kind of creature?"

"A Pegasus," the woman said, her smile growing. "A winged horse. I think that's closer to what you imagine when you picture a pony."

Lou blinked. "Wait… you mean this isn't a pony?"

The woman shook her head, clearly amused. "Not exactly. Yperifáneia here is a lion. A rare kind of cat."

For a moment, Lou felt a pang of disappointment. She'd really wanted to ride a pony. But the sting of it faded almost instantly — after all, how many kids got to ride a lion?

"Do you think… do you think someday I could ride the Pegasus?" Lou asked hopefully.

The woman tilted her head, considering. "Perhaps," she said at last. "You'll have to ask your father, though. He's the one who makes those kinds of decisions."

Lou's excitement dimmed just a little. She wasn't sure her dad would agree. He was always so protective — never letting her go places without him, always worrying.

Wait.

Her father.

Lou's hands tightened in the creature's mane as a cold wave of realization swept over her.

"Hey… wait a second…" She slid awkwardly off the lion's back, stumbling a little as she backed away. Her heart pounded faster. "Who… who are you? How did you pick me up from school? Where even are we?" She spun around, taking in the empty street, the strange stillness of the place. "Where's my dad?!"

The woman's expression softened, but there was something unreadable behind her eyes.

"You're more perceptive than I expected," she murmured. "But you're right — I should have introduced myself sooner." She inclined her head slightly. "My name is Rhea."

Lou stared. "Rhea… what?"

"Just Rhea," the woman said, smiling. "It seems your father hasn't told you much about your heritage yet. If he planned to at all."

"My… heritage?" Lou's heart pounded faster. "What are you talking about?"

Rhea sighed softly. "I had hoped to leave this conversation to him. But I'm afraid you've been… pulled into things sooner than expected. There are forces at work — and some of them are very interested in you, simply because of who your father is."

"Why would anyone care about my dad?" Lou demanded. "He's just… he's just him! Sure, he sleeps in a lot, and he's a little disorganized, but he's my dad! He's a good person!"

Rhea studied her for a long moment. Then she raised her hand and swept it in an arc through the air.

The world shifted.

Lou's vision blurred, colors flashing and distorting like a thousand images overlaid at once. She stumbled, the ground dropping out from under her — but instead of hitting hard concrete, her hands dug into soft, cool grass.

"What—?!" She looked up, her breath catching. They weren't on the street anymore. They were in a wide, sunlit park filled with rolling green hills and ancient trees swaying in a breeze she couldn't quite feel. The air smelled like flowers and something richer — like magic.

"How…?"

"I changed the scenery," Rhea said lightly, sitting beside her with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. "Don't worry — no one will bother us here. The Mist keeps us hidden."

Lou's head spun, but she forced herself to focus. "What… what did you mean about my dad?" she asked. "He's not in any trouble, is he?"

Lou may have been a little slow but she knew that her father often got himself caught up into situations he really should avoid. There were plenty of instances of her father going out of his way to assist someone in need.

Rhea's expression grew more serious. "Your father's done no wrong," she said softly. "But he's drawn attention to himself. Some of my… family find that concerning. And it seems he's become involved in a conflict with another group — though I don't yet know the details."

Lou's stomach twisted. "So my dad's… fighting people?"

"Not exactly. But conflict has a way of finding him — good and bad alike." Rhea's voice softened. "I met him once, you know. Before you were born. He was lost — in more ways than one. But even then, he showed kindness."

Lou stared at her. "You knew my dad?"

"I did. I watched him save a little girl who had been separated from her father. He looked after her when no one else would and I guess you could say that I earned my respect. Now, many years later here I am helping his child." Rhea said, mirth evident in her eyes.

Lou's breath caught. She didn't know that story. Her dad never talked about his past — and when he did, it always felt like there was more he wasn't saying.

"That person was a demigod." Rhea continued, noticing her interest. "Which I suppose was his first introduction into this side of the world as well as his fateful meeting with your mother. It's important, I'd garner, as you may find yourself in that very place soon enough."

Lou blinked. "What?"

"Ah, I see. Your father hasn't told you your origins yet. Perhaps it's best if I leave it to him."

"What are you saying? My origins? What does that mean?"

"Your origins are your background, honey. But it is not my place to say. Besides, should I mention the name of your mother, I'm sure she'd come here immediately. Normally that wouldn't be a problem but I'm confident that she wouldn't come alone which would just be a danger to you."

"I don't… I don't understand."

"That is fine. All will be revealed soon enough. For now, I suggest you relax. As soon as I locate your father, I'll bring you to him. He'll decide from there."

Let's have a talk, shall we?" the man said, dragging a chair from the corner of the dimly lit room. He flipped it around and straddled it backward, resting his arms across the top with a lazy, almost theatrical ease.

Shirou Emiya stared at him, wary and confused.

"Who are you?" Shirou asked.

The man's eyes widened in mock surprise, and he pointed to himself as if the question was absurd.

"Me? Who am I?" He burst into laughter — wild, unhinged laughter that echoed off the stone walls. It was the kind of sound that made the hair on the back of Shirou's neck stand up. Then, just as suddenly, the laughter stopped. The man's face went completely blank, drained of all mirth. "I'm me. I've always been me. But I'm guessing that's not the answer you're looking for."

He leaned forward, grinning. "Name's Puck. Just Puck. Remember that."

Shirou's instincts were screaming at him. This guy was dangerous. Unpredictable.

Before he could decide how to respond, something struck his cheek — fast and hard. The sharp sting snapped his head to the side.

"Now, now," Puck said, wagging a finger like a scolding parent. "No drifting off. You just woke up, after all!" He chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Since I answered your question, let's make it fair. You answer mine. Who are you?"

Shirou took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Shirou Emiya."

Puck's eyes narrowed with exaggerated curiosity. "Shirou Emiya, huh?" He tilted his head. "Alright, then… who are you?"

"I just told you—"

The next slap came faster and harder. Shirou clenched his jaw as the sting spread across his face.

"Wrong answer!" Puck sang. He pushed to his feet, pacing in a tight circle, hands running through his unruly hair. "You humans always focus on the surface. Names, names, names — like they mean anything. I want to know what's underneath all that." He spun back, his eyes locking onto Shirou's. "What's your connection to King Arthur?"

"I have no connection to King Arthur," Shirou said evenly.

Puck hummed, circling him slowly. "See, that's interesting. Us Fae — we can smell lies. We're supposed to be the embodiment of purity or some nonsense like that." He waved a hand dismissively. "Point is, lying to me? Impossible."

He stopped in front of Shirou, his smile sharpening. "And yet… you didn't lie. Not exactly."

"See—"

"But you didn't tell the whole truth, either." Puck's voice cut through the air like a blade. "That's quite the trick. I'm the realm's greatest trickster, and even I don't know how you pulled it off. You either have a connection… or you don't."

In a flash, a knife was at Shirou's throat. The cold steel bit into his skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

"But I know you're leaving something out," Puck whispered. "The only reason you're still breathing is because our Queen wants to meet you herself. Otherwise, I'd have carved the answers out by now."

He sighed dramatically and pulled the blade away. "Such a shame. I was looking forward to a bit of fun."

As he turned toward the exit, he paused. "But before I go… I just have to know." He glanced back, his grin returning. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Oh, you know what I mean." Puck's eyes danced with mischief. "Agravain. You wrecked him. The guy practically collapsed getting you through the portal. And here you are, still in one piece. Far less damaged than he was."

"He got unlucky," Shirou said simply.

"Unlucky?" Puck snorted. "Sure, let's call it that. He says you had some kind of tracking sword — followed him everywhere, wouldn't let up. He had to rip out his own heart and throw it just to get the thing off him."

Puck laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"But the best part? You made it disappear. Poof. Thin air. He said you did it over and over, and it drove him crazy." Puck wiped a tear from his eye. "Honestly, I think you might be my favorite prisoner ever."

Shirou said nothing.

"We don't even know what you are," Puck continued. "You're using magic, sure — but not any kind we recognize. And those weapons of yours… what's the trick? Pocket dimension? Creation magic? Something else?"

"You could find out," Shirou said calmly, "if you take off these restraints."

Puck grinned. "Nice try. Oldest trick in the book, my friend."

He gave a little wave and sauntered out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Shirou's mind raced. Lou… stay safe.

The sound of drums cut through the silence. Faint, but growing closer. Puck's footsteps stopped.

"Well," Puck's voice drifted back. "Looks like you're about to meet her yourself."

And then he was gone.

The marching came next — heavy and rhythmic. The cell door creaked open, and armored figures flooded in. Two behind him, two in front, and one off to the side — the only one without a helmet.

The helmless man stood with an air of arrogance, his ornate sword resting at his hip. Blonde hair slicked back perfectly, with a single curled strand falling artfully across his face.

"Pick him up," the man ordered. "Give him no room to move. He has magic — remember that."

Rough hands yanked Shirou to his feet. His legs buckled from disuse, but the knights held him steady.

The helmless man didn't even spare him a glance as he turned and strode toward the exit. The knights forced Shirou to follow in a tight diamond formation.

They walked in silence, the air heavy with tension. Shirou squinted as they emerged into the light — and his breath caught.

The sky stretched above them in brilliant, impossible blue. The air smelled of flowers and magic, and the city before them looked like something from a dream.

Spiraling towers, floating castles, golden-winged figures drifting lazily through the air. Children made of literal gold laughed and played with glowing orbs, and strange birdlike creatures stalked the streets.

Shirou's mind whirled.

"You're about to find out," Puck said, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I must go now—I'm not even supposed to be here." With that, he turned and ran, his footsteps echoing through the hallway.

Shirou barely had time to process before a thought hit him like a hammer.

Their queen? No… it can't be.

The rhythmic clanking of armor filled the air as several knights marched in, fully clad from head to toe. Two positioned themselves behind him, two in front. Off to the side stood another man—the only one without a helmet. An ornate sword rested at his side, gleaming under the dim light.

Everything about him screamed nobility, arrogance, and an air of being too good to be in this place. He was strikingly handsome, his slicked-back blonde hair only interrupted by a single stray curl that fell beside his face.

"Pick him up. Give him no room—he has magic. Don't forget that."

One of the knights pulled out a key, unlocking the shackles binding Shirou to the wall, as well as those around his ankles.

Strong hands yanked him to his feet. His legs, still numb, nearly gave out beneath him, but they held him steady until he found his footing.

The man—who had yet to acknowledge him—simply turned and strode out of the cell. The knights pushed Shirou forward, surrounding him in a diamond formation, ensuring there was no room for escape. Not that he had a choice.

They walked in silence for minutes. Then, up ahead, light peeked through the cracks of a door. Finally, outside.

Shirou squinted as they stepped into the open, his eyes adjusting to the sudden burst of colors.

His breath caught.

The sky was the purest blue he had ever seen—untouched by pollution, unmarred by haze. Clouds drifted in perfect harmony, accentuating the serene beauty of the atmosphere. The air itself felt fresh, carrying the sweet scent of flowers.

This place… it's incredible.

It looked like something out of a dream—like the very image of heaven itself.

Behind them loomed the black stone tower from which they had emerged, spiraling both upwards and deep below. Two guards flanked the entrance, standing watch with unwavering diligence.

Shirou turned his gaze forward.

They were in a kingdom—an impossible one. Fae with shimmering wings filled the streets, their gazes shifting to him with a mix of curiosity and awe.

Everyone flew. No roads. No cars. Just people soaring gracefully between towering structures, each resembling miniature castles with unnecessary spirals reaching towards the sky.

It was elegant. Advanced. And somehow, impractical.

A sudden push from the guards forced him forward. As they moved, he caught sight of a peculiar bird-like creature with bright yellow feathers and a sharp beak. Its presumed owner tugged at its reins, trying to lead it inside a castle, but it resisted—staring at Shirou instead.

The man scowled, stepping in front of the creature to block its view before shoving it through the doorway.

Shirou barely had time to dwell on that before something else caught his eye.

Children—golden children—ran through the streets, laughing as they bounced a glowing orb back and forth like a basketball.

Then, on a whim, he glanced up.

His breath hitched.

A floating castle hovered in the distance, its grand silhouette dominating the sky. Around it, dozens of warriors patrolled, each armed with serious weaponry.

"Are you amazed, human?" The nobleman leading the knights spoke at last, his tone laced with arrogance. "This is the realm of the Fae—the most magnificent land in existence. Your world could never compare."

They stopped beneath the floating fortress, where more guards stood by a glowing blue platform inscribed with symbols.

Runes? They have those here too?

"Prince Damh," one of the guards acknowledged, his tone edged with barely concealed disdain. "You made it back safely, I see."

"Clearly." Damh snorted. "Did you really think a human would do me in? Get real."

The guard didn't react. Instead, he raised a glowing hand, activating the runes beneath them.

A bubble of energy expanded around them.

Shirou tensed.

What—?!

Before he could react, they were rising—floating like a soap bubble towards the sky. He nearly lost his balance as they ascended.

"Compose yourself," Damh sneered. "You're about to meet the Queen. She demands perfection." His gaze swept over Shirou with disgust. "You smell. Your hair is unkempt. Your clothing is in tatters. Even our lowest citizen looks better than you. That will need to be fixed."

The bubble carried them to a docking point. A group of women, dressed in immaculate maid uniforms, stood waiting.

"Take him," Damh ordered. "Make him presentable—quickly. And no games, Veronica."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Shirou barely had time to process before he was dragged inside.

"Oof—hey! Can you not—?!"

The attendants wasted no time, pulling him into a grand bathing chamber. Steam rose from a prepared basin, and before he could protest, hands were already reaching for his clothes.

"Whoa, whoa—NOT THERE!"

They giggled.

"How exactly do you plan on undressing yourself while handcuffed?" one asked, raising an eyebrow.

"…Fair point."

"Then hold still. We'll do it for you."

Thirty minutes later, Shirou emerged cleaned, groomed, and dressed in garments so fine he could hardly fathom their worth. His hair had been trimmed and flattened, stripped of its usual spikiness.

I don't like this…

The attendants beamed at him.

"See? That wasn't so bad!"

"And now you look handsome! If only—"

"Cordelia, behave."

"I'm just saying what we're all thinking…"

Before he could respond, they shoved him out into the grand hallway.

"Geez—what's with everyone and pushing?!" he muttered.

The moment he stepped out, two guards grabbed his shoulders. Again.

They dragged him through the palace until they reached an opulent golden gate. A knight stood waiting.

Blonde. Blue-eyed. Light armor. Strong.

Shirou could feel it—the sheer presence radiating off him.

The man spotted him and suddenly sprinted forward—arms wide.

Wait—who is he about to hug?

Before Shirou could react, the knight crashed into him, his chestplate slamming into Shirou's ribs as he wrapped him in a firm embrace.

"Uh… do I know you?"

"You do now!" the man grinned. "Name's Sir Gawain. I heard what you did to Agravain—thank you for knocking that guy down a peg."

Wait—Gawain?! The Knight of the Sun? One of the strongest in the Round Table?

…Just how many of them were here?

"Sir Gawain, step back," one of the guards warned. "The prisoner is classified as dangerous."

Gawain waved them off.

"Relax. I'm armed, and he's handcuffed. Besides, we don't even know if he's guilty yet—we should at least hear his side first."

Finally, someone reasonable.

A voice interrupted. "It is time."

A man by the gate cracked it open, whispered something, then swung it wide.

"Introducing Sir Gawain, Second Protector of the Coffin, and Shirou Emiya!"

Shirou stepped onto the red carpet.

The throne room was filled with people, lined in rows on either side. They were holding court.

And at the center—on a throne of gold—sat her.

She was young, strikingly beautiful, with snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes. A golden gown cascaded around her, extending beyond even the throne.

She gazed at him with intent.

Shirou could only stare.

A voice beside her spoke.

"You stand before the Queen of the Lands of Gold. The ruler of Avalon. The Guider of Light.

Queen Titania."

A/N:

Okay so... It's been a while. I know that. I don't really have any excuse if I'm being honest. I mean... I did just get a new major job and that has been taking up some time but honestly I think I just fell out of my writers zone. It's very hard to stay in it when your making such original content.

But, do y'all still like this? I have a lot of arcs planned. I see the reviews are a bit... mixed and a lot of you think that I'm straying away from what this story had promised. However, I will say that is not really the case. This is a bit more of a slow burn. IT it is still like A Father's Love but more centered on action. This arc isn't just for action purposes though. It's very important for a reason so just stick with me here.

Thanks. I'll see all of you later. FIre Burns is next!