A Sequel to Fate/Black Dawn
Light and Dark
[Ocean of Memories]
“There’s no guarantee it will be her, you know. In fact, it’s completely possible it can’t be her.” A man looked up from his seated position in the middle of a large tangle of scrawled red lines. Adorned in a simple set of black slacks, a dark red button-up shirt, alongside a black vest, one could easily have mistaken him for a man of formal tastes.
The wild extent of his coppery-red hair detracted somewhat from such an appearance. As glimmering golden eyes locked onto her face, his mask of idle stoicism melted slightly into an easy smile that made her heart flutter in her chest.
“You know that won’t stop me.” He remarked, the conclusion as foregone as the idea that day would come, or that the sky would be blue. She stood a healthy distance outside of the array, arms crossed even while one hand idly twirled a lengthy bang of silvered blonde hair.
They were both ageless creatures, infused with the very essence of the Fae. Though the weakening of the world’s Mana had steadily lowered them from the inhuman feats of their rebellion and the subsequent abandonment of Britain, Morgan Pendragon- for she could claim that name wholly now, as opposed to the title of le Faye- could only stare quietly at her husband.
The Black Dragon. The second arrival of Vortigern, though Shirou had never been endowed with the strength of Britain itself- only given it by proxy by Morgan’s machinations and the forces of Alaya keeping history correct.
It had never been a fight her sister would have won. It was her fate, as cruel as it was--
-- and it was her husband’s fate to never get to know peace in Artoria’s arms again. Especially now that he’d chosen another.
Two millenia. Fifteen-hundred years, almost. It had been wonderful, to have someone to share in this loneliness with. The undying, unaging Witch as beautiful as the moment she’d given him Excalibur Morgan--
-- the weapon that signified her heart. Her trust and love. All that she was, and could ever be. A blade that drank in darkness and served to bring the fall of Camelot- the Utopia that could never succeed.
The weapon he’d used to slay the woman he loved most. A dark, cruel mercy that reflected in his very being every time he looked upon the weapon, or even his own face in the mirror. Like now, when his magical energy- and even some of her’s- was feeding into the array on the ground and making the red lightning imprinting his skin glow with the force of his own power.
He stood. It was time, and she could only let her hands rest at her side once again. For a moment, she felt a desire to fist her hands in the soft material of her jacket.
It was a gentle winter evening in Japan, a city he’d known and she knew about both through her own connection with him, and from years of discussions and idle chatter.
Fuyuki, where only a little over two-hundred years ago, human magi had tried to make a hole into the very fabric of magic and knowledge. A place even she would call worthless to visit.
One could not wield that power, only despair at having it. The price that came with it too high.
It was only by her musing that she can amuse herself with the thought of what they would do. That they would break yet another foolish ideal--
-- she loved her husband the most when he was kind. Especially to her. And, in this moment of her gift to him, she knew he would be the kindest of all. In his own cruel, tyrannical way that was beyond the scope of men.
“The origin of silver, and iron-” Her eyes flitted forward unto him again, brushing a lock of blonde hair back behind her ear as he began the incantation. Watching with a deep pleasure--
-- and an unabiding fear for her husband’s feelings.
“The sword and archduke of contracts, the cornerstone-” His hand outstretched as the array began to fill with energy, flooding the room with an eerie red light as a result of his own tainted magical energy. Once upon a time, it had been blue- perhaps even green- but now, long after he had been subjected to the change into a creature beyond human, the only thing that ever came forth from him was blacks or reds.
“By the hand of the creator, my ancestor-
The winds howl and the gates shut,
From the crown pours forth the roads leading to the Kingdom-”
-- it was working. The deep and unabiding release of energy only mitigated by the outstretched hand that she saw begin to scrawl and bleed as the marks were tore into his open flesh, but he noticed not.
“Shut, and fill-
Shut and fill-
Shut and fill-
Shut and fill-
Shut and fill-
Repeat every five times.”
The dribbling blood caressing the lines of his hand, standing out in stark relief from his ashen skin. The allure of it reminding the Witch of all of the times she had seen him bleed for her, seen him fight for her.
A heady, passionate feeling that made it easy to forgive him this once.
-- his hand clenched open like a claw, flexed into a talon that could tear the throat from a man.
“And shatter once filled.” The words were pronounced with a growing sense of the energy around them. Her gaze turning away from the display to admire the crackling red lightning that began to flood the warehouse they’d deigned to turn into a short-term Temple.
“From the self that comes, beholden to me,
Your sword is my dream, and if you abide this feeling, this reason-
Then answer in the name of the Holy Grail-”
Her eyes, glowing in their own green state, turned once again upon the form of Shirou Pendragon. It was time.
“By my oath, I am the one which projects the Good of the world of the dead,
And the one who abides the Evil of the world of the dead-”
The next words came out in a whisper, as if he was afraid of their very existence. And, were it not for her awareness of the delicacy of such a ritual, she would have gone to him.
-- but she did not.
“You, seven heavens clad in three words of power-”
The light intensified--
“Arrive from the ring of deterrence, O Keeper of the Balance!”
The world around them flooded with light, so bright it would have blinded a human’s eyes, but as they were in the center of the maelstrom, Morgan only brought an arm up to bring closure to herself.
As fast as the light came, it faded away into the ensuing moonlight as she brought her hand around and let the shades covering the few windows billow open in turn.
Though her husband remained standing, it was clear he was winded. From what she’d understood, many used additional implements to provide power for the summoning, but Shirou had relied solely on stored power within Avalon Alternative, resting within his breast.
Which had left him drained it seemed, though her eyes quickly moved on from him when she’d confirmed his health, towards the new presence in the room.
Against her wishes, her fists knotted against the wool of her coat.
“I ask of you-”
Green eyes that were not her own opened. Blonde hair tied up high, a woman wreathed in blue and silver. A blade concealed in the very air itself clasped loosely in a gauntlet-clad hand, while her words trailed off--
Because golden eyes had met green.
“ - - - Shirou . . ?”
Uneasily, she watched his lips curl, even as his right hand came up- the sigils of command burned once again unto the back of his fist, a design reminiscent of a sword’s filigree.
“I am your Master---”
His lips relaxed, even while his face could not seem anymore overwhelmed. Her arms crossed.