Fate-in time

55

From the moment his eyes blinked open and he became aware of the circumstances around him, he felt more than understood that he was in a very delicate if not a very complicated situation. He was lying on a bed of stray or hay, but he couldn't really tell due to the bed lining, not like it mattered anyway. He was simply making idle observations to buy time to come up with an actual response to the amount of attention that was currently being directed towards him.

Efret was the one with the least reservations and directly hopped onto his chest, bowing its head low in greeting, a type of remorse in its eyes for its past failure. In the same way it had at the location of the Ashton Manor, it looked up to him calling out to him in his mind.
"Young Lord," Efret intoned gravely, back hunched over in regret. "I. Failed." It seemed to still have trouble speaking fluently in the human tongue. "I, no save you before."
From how reserved Efret was acting, it was clear just how much it blamed itself, yet Shirou felt no contempt. Instead, his expression conveyed it all. He'd not once faulted Efret for anything. It had tried its best, and that was enough.
Words did not need to be said for Efret to feel Shirou's thoughts through the connection they shared as Master and Familiar. Subsequently, it did not have the face to stick around any longer. It wanted to train more to get even stronger so that the past would not reoccur, and that meant no more lazing around.
Verifying once more that Shirou was in fact fine, Efret unfurled its wings and flew out the only open window of the room, leaving Shirou alone to handle the biggest problem in his current life.
The feud he could see between Mordred and Arturia.
The both of them had rushed towards him from the moment that they saw him stir and it resulted in them standing on either side of each other. Neither of them seemed to notice yet as they were fully focused on him, but it would only be a matter of time until they did. Judging from how poorly Arturia had reacted when he called out Mordred's name from before, he didn't have to think to understand that her current thoughts on Mordred had to be anything but pleasant.
Arturia was older now, taller than he remembered and more refined in her appearance. Her hair had grown fairly long, but she somehow managed it by tying it together into a bun above her head. However, her hair was still too long and many wheat-coloured strands fell down in-between her eyes and framed the sides of her face. On her bangs was a small gold-coloured cross-ornament which he realized came from one of the gifts he'd once forged for her in the smithery of Bristol. The fact that she was now wearing it openly revealed just how much she must have had missed him. In their youth, everything that he'd always gotten or made for her during her birthday or special occasions would always be stowed away. Arturia had the tendency to only wear them when she was alone and smiling dumbly to herself in front of a mirror where no one else could see her. It wasn't until Kay had walked in on her by accident that he'd learned of Arturia's rather girlish habit. That, and she could be rather ruthless when flustered given how much Kay complained about his bruises.
Her facial appearance took a moment for him to digest as it was different from the Saber-like appearance he was thinking of, but it didn't mean he didn't like it either. So long as it was Arturia, he'd probably like anything. More to the point though, it became evident to him that she'd already lost or broken Caliburn in his absence. Without it, she'd begun to age and had grown visibly older.
She was in her twenties now with a stunning disposition that astounded him with how fast she was to mature into a woman. She'd even had to change her armour scheme to accommodate as mere cloth bindings would no longer serve their purpose to contain something so huge. Her previous armour had been replaced by gleaming silver apparel, but as if in a bid to maintain her standard colours, she wore blue cloth over her shoulders and leggings.
Frankly he had the urge to say 'who are you,' but he knew that it would do more harm then good given his situation.
Older now, but Arturia was still Arturia.
Then there was Mordred. She had her arms crossed while staring down at him, but it wasn't difficult for him to see the way that she was slowly trying to inch closer. Between Arturia and Mordred, Mordred was the first to realize how close she was to the King and decided to slink to away to his left rather than his right where Arturia stood.
Speaking of Arturia, she was staring at him, and not speaking a single word. Frankly, he was much the same, leaving Mordred out of the loop.
Mordred was feeling apprehensive. From the moment that Shirou had woken up, the awkwardness present in the room rose to an unprecedented level with how intensely the King was staring at Shirou's face. It was hard for her to understand what was going on, nor did she think that she wanted to.
Within a subconscious part of herself, inkling of suspicion that she had that Shirou was in fact, truly, Lord Ashton was beginning to fester. If it meant that he'd leave her if he remembered, then she didn't want that. She didn't want to feel alone again, and Shirou was the very individual who had allowed her to gain friendship and her own loyal Knights.
Truthfully, she was scared. Scared that she may lose all that she'd gained without Shirou around her to provide support.
When Shirou said that he'd be her shield, he may have meant it in a more literal sense, but he'd ended up becoming a shield that warded away her insecurities and mental doubts instead. Without him, a part of her would feel vulnerable again, and no amount of convincing would make her believe that she was better off alone when she'd already experienced how it was like to have others to rely on.
In the silence, Mordred was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable, her dread reaching its peak when it looked like Shirou was undergoing a dawn of realization with how startled he appeared. In contrast, Arturia's heart was about to burst from her chest as she noticed the same reaction.
Mordred had enough, a deeper and inexplicable part of her suddenly feeling threatened. Ignoring her reservations about the King's opinions of her, she strode forward and grabbed Shirou's sleeve, urging him to leave the room based on the expression of her face, her teeth biting down on her lower lip. It was similar to the way children would tug on their parent's leg to go home from a boring party, not that Mordred ever had that kind of experience. She had always been a neglected child, and now faced with the prospect of someone she cared about being taken away from her, she didn't know how to react other than to follow her instincts.
It was a side of her that she never would have revealed to her mother as she would have had been beaten as sign of her weakness. She could still remember the way her mother tore apart the straw doll she had once made as a young child no older than five. She was left with no food or water for three days as a lesson. Worse was the time that she made friends with a stray cat only to find it reduced to a bloodied corpse hours later.
She clenched her teeth. She had to be tough at all times back then, and it was ingrained in her rebellious and unrestrained personality even after she'd ran away from her mother's clutches.
She hated her mother, far more than simple words could describe. Which was why the friends and people she had made connections with outside of her mother's knowledge were cherished by her that much more. Especially when it was already hard enough for her to bond with others.
For the first time in her life, she was being selfish.
She didn't want to lose anything anymore, and it resulted in her taking actions without premediated thought.
The sensation of Mordred tugging on his sleeve broke the trance he was having with Arturia, leaving Arturia thoroughly aghast as unease assailed her mind. Shirou looked moments away from remembering her before Mordred intervened. What if he couldn't remember her anymore because of Mordred's actions?
Arturia's mind blanked, shutting down as panic assailed her.
Meanwhile, Shirou's attention shifted towards Mordred and the way she shied away from his gaze, turning her head left or right when he looked at her, her eyes focused on the floor.
Where was the enemy that he had once contemplated numerous counters against while biding his time in Bristol?
Why could he not see the traitor that would usher in the end of an era?
What was before him was an individual who had undergone more than their fair share of suffering. Now more than ever, he realized that he couldn't just abandon her.
The expression on his face lightened, a hand placing itself on top of Mordred's head. Despite wearing her helmet, it almost felt to Mordred that she could feel the warmth and sentiment he was trying to convey with his touch. At the very least, it snapped her out of her daze and made her realize the rashness and shamefulness of her actions.
She was like a hot-potato in danger of exploding at any moment.
Suddenly becoming self-conscious, Mordred's face steadily began to redden starting at the tips of her cheeks and working its way down to the base of her neck. She was stammering inaudibly inside her helmet; trying to come up with an explanation for her actions, but flooring herself when she realized that she couldn't say that she was feeling insecure out of great shame.
She let go of him, backing away one step at a time until her mind shut-down entirely and she bolted out of the room like a startled cat.
Shirou knew that he had to go after Mordred at this point to clear up any of her doubts and misunderstandings, but he didn't want to leave Arturia either. As if to demonstrate how similar both Arturia and Mordred could be, from the moment Mordred left, someone else had taken the place of clinging onto his sleeve.
He stared blankly at Arturia whose fingers clutched lightly onto him, her gaze pointed away, unconfident and anxious. She looked like she wanted to say something, but the words were too difficult for her to get out no matter how hard she tried. She wet her lips and swallowed, trying her best to find the best way to some up all of the feelings she'd kept bottled inside over the years.
She wanted him to remember. She yearned for it so strongly that when the moment came to press Shirou for answers, her mutinous mouth would not work, frustrating her to the point of tears.
It was like the closer one got to something, the farther it actually was.
She nearly began sobbing when despite her inability to speak, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and hugged her in close, unminding of the hardness of the armour she wore. Her vision was watery, the lump in her throat making it so that all she could do was breath with choked breath.
It was a familiar warmth and affection that had her desperately reciprocating the action. Her arms wrapped around him, pressing herself close as shudders travelled down her body from inaudible weeping.
The silence between the two was golden, as if the both of them had reverted to the state of their young adolescence. Her face was buried against the small of his chest, a wetness seeping over the cloth near his shoulder. He'd always been taller than Arturia, and the years had not changed that. If he let things continue as they were, he knew that Arturia would never willingly let him go out of her sight again.
Seconds passed, followed by minutes.
He breathed in her scent, of lavenders and gooseberries while running a hand through her hair, the other wrapped around her waist. A part of him didn't want to let go and let the moment continue for an eternity, but he knew that if he wanted to secure Arturia's future then he must not allow himself to over indulge.
He needed a way to confront the witch lurking in the shadows; the sooner, the better to prevent anything else from getting out of hand and his best opportunity lied in Mordred. A girl which he had once thought of as an adversary, but now as someone important to him. The memories that he had as Shirou the blacksmith was not fake and were a part of him. He'd promised that he'd be Mordred's shield, and he would damn well shield her from the vile woman she called 'mother.'
It was time for him to go after Mordred, yet he couldn't bare to leave Arturia as she was. By going after Mordred right now, he knew that any reason he'd use to explain to Arturia would go in one ear and out the other given her current state. She was even less likely to believe that miss-handling Mordred's situation would be the cause of an inevitable future downfall. He simply refused to allow such an outcome.
In which case, his only option was to compromise until he'd better organized everything.
Slowly, reluctantly, he coaxed himself out of Arturia's embrace, she looking blankly at him as he sat up and touched his cheek against hers, mouth moving near her ear.
"You've worked hard, Arturia," he whispered the words that he wished to say the most. A sign to let her know not to worry anymore because he was back.
He was not cruel enough to fool her into believing that he still didn't remember her just to settle the situation with Mordred. Doing so would only sow further discord with Mordred and Arturia and that wasn't what Shirou wanted. Instead, he wished for them to get along as related kin.
At the same time though, his words didn't exactly convey to Arturia that he remembered everything.
It was an ambiguous response, one that he didn't allow her the time to question as he quickly left the room in Arturia's daze, resisting the urge to peck her on the lips as he departed.
It was only when he was gone that Arturia reacted, finally finding her voice.
"Y-You, what did you just say?" Arturia abruptly stood up on her feet rushing towards the door, but it was already too late. The hall outside was empty with only Tristan staring at her in bewilderment down the hall. From Tristan's perspective he'd seen Mordred run out first, followed by Shirou several minutes later, and now the King? He considered the prospect of asking to alleviate him of his curiosity, but he chose better of it when the matter seemed intricately related to his King.
Arturia herself hardly even noticed Tristan, and when she did, she simply re-entered the room and closed the door behind her.
Her legs grew weak, the soles of her feet wobbling in the relief that was flooding through her. She had to use her hands and the nearby wall to support herself as she tried to calm the beating of her heart.
He remembered her. He remembered her.
She wasn't sure just how much he knew, but what did it matter to quell her current excitement?
Her legs carried her towards the bed in the room. Making sure that she was alone, her arms hugged tightly onto a pillow before she subconsciously began rolling around in glee, her legs kicking up and down.
The genuine smile that blossomed across her face was one that had not appeared in many, many long years.
It would only be later when she discovered that Shirou had gone after Mordred that Arturia would seriously begin to question just how much Shirou remembered.
Still, there was no getting rid of the happiness that she obtained when Shirou called out her name.
Shirou found Mordred sulking in a corner far out of sight from where William and the others were stationed at their own barracks. A dark cloud seemed to be hanging over her head and it was made only worse with the more shame she felt at her inability to control herself. She was sitting on the ground overlooking the hastily made training fields with her arms wrapped around her knees tucked into her chest.
She flustered at his approach, trying to maintain an air of indifference but failing terribly.
He sighed, walking right up to her and sitting down by pressing his back against her own for support. Knowing Mordred, it was probably better this way as he wasn't directly facing her. As he expected, she soon began to calm down from her fluster rather than blubber out some barbed words to defend her image.
He said nothing, simply sat there and waited. It was the correct decision.
"Well, aren't you going to laugh at me?" Mordred removed her helmet and ran a hand irritably through her hair.
He raised a brow. "What is there to laugh at? I'd much prefer you being honest than trying to maintain a façade."
"…" Mordred didn't reply, idly pulling at the grass beneath her feet instead. He could tell that there was something on her mind that was both hard for to bring up, and also eating away at her. Her brows were scrunched up and she seemed more defensive than usual. By defensive he meant diffident. She was clearly feeling troubled but refused to acknowledge it.
It was all the signs of an individual who'd never really had a guardian figure to rely on in their youth.
It didn't matter anyway. He could make a guess at what she was probably thinking about.
"You're starting to believe that I'm Lord Ashton, aren't you?" the words left his mouth calmly, but they pierced through Mordred as if her armour was worth nothing. She flinched, the hand she was using to pull the grass pausing mid-action.
"Yeah, so what?" She went on the defensive, pulling her legs closer to her chest and gritting her teeth. He could feel her apprehension. It was directly embedded in her tone. She acted as if she didn't care but there was a waver in her voice.
He straightened his back, leaning behind him and applying more pressure on Mordred in a bid to get her to listen. "I won't leave you," he said strongly. "I know I've been missing parts of my memories until now, but are you taking the ones we've made together lightly?"
Mordred pursed her lips. He continued on, fingering a piece of un-hammered ore that he'd found in his pocket and inspecting it with a close eye.
"Shirou the Blacksmith was and is, still me. There's no way your shield would abandon you so there's nothing to fear," he spoke absently, as if stating common truths, but to Mordred's ears they were enough, her down-cast expression lightening.
"B-Bastard as if I needed you anyway," she stuttered, but the slumping of her shoulders had visibly eased. "You're just saying anything you want to make me feel better." It was what her mother had taught her. If someone was being nice to a freak homunculus like her, it was because they had an ulterior motive.
Her pessimism was beginning to show, though admittedly it wasn't the first time that she'd been lied to.
Turning around, Shirou placed his hand on Mordred's shoulder and gripped strongly, like a vice that would never let go. "I won't leave you," he said with conviction. "So, stop making assumptions."
She sucked in a breath, her breath hitching in the same instant. She fell quiet, not speaking for a long time after. "Sorry," she eventually apologized after much effort, the hands picking at grass moving to rest atop her knees. "My mother made it hard for me to trust others," she explained.
"Your mother?" Shirou's eyes instantly narrowed, his senses heightening. "What kind of woman was she?"
"A Bitch," Mordred cursed immediately. There wasn't a single pause in her response. Shirou couldn't see it, but Mordred was frowning, lips curved into a sneer. "She was the kind of mother you'd only call 'mother' to avoid any harsh beatings or punishments. 'All for the sake of the future,' she would say." Mordred's eyes appeared vacant, as if recalling rather unpleasant memories. "Why are we talking about this anyway?"
It was evident that she wanted to change the subject. She was fidgeting with obvious signs of distress, but Shirou could see that she'd kept a lot of resentment bottled inside her. He could have chosen to relent, yet it was probably better for Mordred to have someone to confide in.
It was the reassurance from the hand that had not left her shoulder that allowed Mordred to go on. "My earliest memory was being told that I was nothing more than a tool…"
She could still remember the way her mother looked at her in contempt.
If not to feed her, then there would have been no contact whatsoever with most of her childhood confined in a dark room.
There was a solemnness that began to spread out, a gloominess in the air as Mordred slowly began to open up. The more Shirou heard, the more his expression and thoughts on Mordred changed. In contrast, he found it harder and harder to tolerate Morgan's actions. Morgan wasn't trying to raise a child; she was trying to raise an obedient puppet. Eventually, he couldn't help himself any longer.
"Where is she now?" His voice was clipped. Not only was it his main objective to discover Morgan's location, but now he made it a priority to seek justice on Mordred's behalf. He was angry, far more than he thought that he'd ever be, and Mordred could tell that it was partly because of what she'd revealed.
Mordred glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, and when she saw just how infuriated he was on her behalf, the trace of warmth that was bubbling inside her began to permeate throughout her body. She leaned her back against his and crossed her legs in front of her. "I don't know," she responded lightly. "I lost all track of her from the moment I ran away, but I do remember the places she used to take me."
She began talking animatedly, her earlier insecurities seemingly vanishing into the air. The sole prospect of having someone who refused to reject her gave her a type of reassurance that was beyond mere description. She was inwardly beaming, trying hard to prevent her eyes from watering.
As Shirou listened intently, he made sure to take every location to heart. It was the beginning of his personal Witch Hunt, and every clue he could obtain was vital both for Mordred and Arturia's futures. He felt that he alone should be the one to handle the burden. The two of them should focus on their duties of uniting the war-forsaken lands.
Both of them deserved a better future than what they'd obtained in another history, and he would make it happen without fail or die trying.
Now the larger problem he had to solve was a fairly obvious hurdle. How was he going to get Arturia and Mordred to get along?
The question had him wracking his brain for a suitable answer.
By evening, Merlin and the army that he was leading had arrived on horseback, the entire company of Knights quickly ushered in through the gates of Castle Mordred. Most of the Knights and Merlin included were astounded at the sight of the steel caste, none had ever seen one before.
Most castles were made of stone or rock for durability. Wood was cheaper and easier to shape, but was too weak to withstand the might of a sieging army. Steel in comparison was even more cumbersome. Although tough, steel walls could not be transported in bulk and were too expensive for most nobility and professional armies to afford. Why waste steel on a castle if it could be used instead to create armours for the Knights and Cavalry?
A steel castle had never been heard of before, but Merlin was keen to notice the modular design that laid out the foundation of the steel castle. He hummed in thought. Considering the prospect of breaking down larger pieces of steel into smaller more transportable sizes, the efficiency of a ready-made fortress could not be denied.
However, Merlin furrowed his brows. If such a technology had been created, why had he not foreseen it?
Merlin was a Wizard known not only for his magic, but for his prophetic ability known as Clairvoyance. Just by living his daily life, he could peer into the future and predict certain events that had yet to happen. Such was the case with Arturia drawing Caliburn, and such was the case of the predicted Saxon invasion. He knew it all and sought to prevent due harm without directly involving himself in conflict. He preferred to watch and guide from the sidelines instead.
Of course, the only time his Clairvoyance had ever failed him was concerning a single-individual. A student who could be considered both a denizen of the Reverse Side and a local of the Human World like himself, a halfling.
He tapped his staff on the ground and murmured a scrying spell lightly under his breath.
Low and behold, he sensed the Young Lord Ashton.
A smile worked its way up his face.
As much as he enjoyed watching the reactions of others while he told them of a foreseen future, it was much better if he himself was not privy to it. There was no play in existence that one could find genuine entertainment in should the ending already be known.
In which case, things were bound to get interesting soon. From where he was standing, he could already sample it; rich surges of emotions that he could directly feed on as a half-incubus. While the Knights around him saw the steel castle as a new form of protection, to him it was a feast just waiting for him to partake in.
He knew Arturia's feelings towards Shirou. Even if she was willing to sacrifice herself for her country, she had still adamantly refused the marriage proposal with Lady Guinevere, daughter of the King of Gwent.
Merlin sighed just recalling how many enemies Arturia had made that day, but at the very least, reconciliation was not off the table yet. He and Sir Ector had scheduled another banquet to be held to try and mend the relationship. A country fractured would never be able to fend off an invasion.
The topic of the banquet was actually his current priority in coming to see Arturia; the matter with Kay being largely dealt with by Sir Ector.
Sir Ector had not come with Merlin, the reason being the recent discovery of Kay's escape. Instead, Sir Ector took a portion of the army to search for Kay in places that he felt that Kay may retreat towards.
Once Merlin and the company of Knights entered the barracks, Merlin went his separate ways in search of the King, keeping a keen eye on the area around him. To find Arturia was fairly simple, he need only follow the trail of emotions ranging from euphoria and glee, to what appeared to be jealousy? Envy? Apprehension?
He stiffened for a moment, thinking that he'd started following the wrong trail, but his intuition was saying otherwise.
Still, it didn't hurt to check. By now, Arturia must have been informed of his arrival and should be in the reception hall.
He continued walking. The closer he got to Arturia, the more curious he became as the emotions in the air grew stronger. Therefore, he could at least be forgiven for choosing to investigate and satiate his interest rather than openly reveal himself, right? Even if anyone disagreed, Merlin hardly cared. Instead, as he blurred his image by diffracting the light in the air, he peaked into the room that he was certain that Arturia was within.
By the time that he looked and observed what was happening in the room, he was seriouslyconsidering whether or not he should take notes or pointer from his junior.
His lip twitched, mouth curving into a scowl.
How does he possibly work this fast? What kind of godly skill did he possess in womanizing and was it learnable?
Inside the reception hall, Merlin could see the way that Arturia was staring blankly at Mordred who stood far closer to Shirou than what Arturia was comfortable with. Still, Arturia could only hold her mouth as she was currently acting in the position of a King. All of her Knights were observing her and she couldn't allow for their faith in her to waver just because she wanted to get in-between Shirou and Mordred.
Merlin could see everything clearly from a third person perspective and it provoked him to no end. To his credit, he reeled in the urge to walk up to Shirou and 'demand an explanation' and instead made himself visible before entering the hall.
Upon seeing Merlin, the one whose eyes seemed to shine the brightest was Arturia.
She quite frankly rushed through all formalities and quickly dismissed her Knights after Merlin shared the matter with Kay's situation, greatly relieving her of one her largest concerns. In which case, there was only one personal matter left to attend to.
She stared intently at Merlin who felt that it was anything but a furtive gaze. Instead, it looked to him to be more of a demanding one with no option to refuse. He tried to leave, he really did, but Arturia could be scary when she was focused on something. That, and she directly threatened to expose his love affairs under her breath. There were many, many women that had a thing or two to say to him and he'd rather not deal with them when the majority probably wanted to skin him alive.
Reluctantly, he stayed in the room.
All other Knights were dismissed until only Shirou and Mordred were left behind under Arturia's gaze.
Shirou had spent years living with Arturia. There was no way that he did not know what she was thinking about right now, and that was why it was better for him to coax Mordred to leave. He wanted Mordred and Arturia to get along, but understood that he couldn't rush things either. He'd have to go at an appropriate pace.
Mordred stared at him once, but didn't make much more a fuss before exiting the room due to her trust.
Arturia's sternness visibly deflated at Mordred's departure, the action causing the smile on Merlin face to break before he leveled an ambiguous stare in Shirou's direction.
That's not possible. That didn't just happen.
Merlin refused to accept it. He could not believe that Shirou was left unscathed while handling two women at the same time.
There had to be an explanation, a magic or a skill that even he did not yet know of. In which case, he was determined to obtain it. He cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Although I didn't say this before, perhaps it's time that the student pays homage to their teacher." Merlin extended out a hand expectantly, but all he got was a disgruntled response.
"A book? A tome?" Merlin pressed insistently.
Shirou was utterly confused with what Merlin wanted, but seeing as he was playing the role of a man who'd only partially remembered his memories, he chose to play it safe. "Who are you?" He asked.
Merlin was not amused. He was frozen mid-speech about the benefits of brotherhood and was only further annoyed when Arutria revealed the reason she insisted he stay.
"Shirou's memories had just returned and I wanted you to help get them all back." Arturia leaned in closer to Merlin's ear, the action akin to piercing a knife through his chest when she whispered to him, "try to bring out all the memories of only me," in a shy, yet embarrassed voice.
Merlin had enough.
"Out," Merlin raised and pointed a finger towards the door.
To her credit, Arturia was quick to realize who Merlin was referring to. She made to refuse, but Merlin was particularly stern. "Out. I don't want you distracting me in the process."
Arturia open and closed her mouth, thought better of it, and simply bit her lower lip before reluctantly leaving like a scolded child.
Meanwhile, Merlin crossed his arms and sighed. He had wanted to discuss the next plan of action in regards to the mess Arturia had made with the High-Nobles but he could see and feel that Arturia was currently not up for the task. He'd delay it until the next day. For the time being, it was time to deal with this wayward student of his.
Merlin stared at Shirou in a deadpan, index finger tapping over folded arms. "You already remember everything don't you?" Merlin did not beat around the bush.
Shirou shrugged. His silence confirmed Merlin's assumptions, but the man still did a quick diagnostic test. Of the magic Morgan had cast on Shirou, all of it had already been dealt with, leaving only faint residual traces that Merlin made sure had no side effects.
Although he didn't say it, as he deemed it beneath a Wizard like himself, he was relieved that Shirou was alive. The bond between a student and teacher would not be so easily broken especially when they could be considered kin in regards to their relations to the Reverse Side.
"Do you intend to keep this charade up for long?" Merlin inquired.
"Maybe just for a little bit," Shirou admitted. He'd promised that he wouldn't abandon Mordred and the only way that he could reasonably mediate between Arturia and Mordred was in his current guise. He'd make it so that there would be plenty of opportunities to fix whatever difference Mordred an Arturia had.
If it was discovered that he already remembered everything before Arturia and Mordred's relation mended, then he had no doubts that Arturia would insist that he had no reason to stay in Mordred's company.
He was currently in the middle ground, the only place where he had a viable chance to make a difference.
Merlin nodded at Shirou's response. From the very beginning, Shirou had already proven that he was trustworthy and did things for Arturia's benefit. Now was simply no different.
Merlin would not say anything. Besides, even if Merlin didn't want to admit it, the emotions of jealously and envy in the air offered him a delicacy that he was rarely able to partake in without it being at his own expense. Truly, if Shirou felt that he was handling the situation appropriately, then who was he to meddle? Now to just use his magic to watch and feast from the sidelines as any experienced half-incubus should.
Although to be a magus was to walk with death, it was that much harder when the main entrée to sustain his existence was always of the feisty sort.
Then again, it was his own preference. He'd long since had enough of the gloom exuding off of Arturia over the years.
At the same instance that Merlin arrived at Castle Mordred, two others dragging their feet over a wide expanse of tall grass collapsed in an exhausted heap on the ground.
One was a fair woman whose braided hair had long since fallen into disarray, leaving an unruly mess that cascaded down her back. Despite being on the run, she wore a white dress that quickly became tattered and stained with mud and grime.
The woman's name was Natalie, the eldest daughter of Hengist the first King of the Jutes.
She was panting for breath, and it had only been a scant few minutes since she'd had to dismount from her horse to hide in the tall grass in fear of getting discovered by her father's men. She had committed a grave offense and she would not be able to keep her life if she were found. As a Saxon born, she didn't have much hope of finding a place for shelter, but it didn't really matter to her at the moment. Escape first, everything else later.
The grass was thick with the smell of moss and gravel and she was literally rolling in it, forced to crawl due to the flatness of the plains. Standing up was the same as giving herself away, but she wouldn't complain. The man that she had saved from captivity had it worse.
"You didn't have to do this," Kay's voice was weary. Injuries from his time in captivity were present everywhere. His silver armour which covered him from his shoulders to his feet had been striped off and replaced with dirty rags, leaving much of his bruised and lacerated skin exposed. It stung like salt to a wound as he forced himself onward, his blood mixing with the dirt.
"…" Natalie kept silent. If there was one thing that she'd inherited from her father, it was his stubbornness. She'd already explained that she was returning a favour for Kay's mercy several years back. The life she had enjoyed was because of him and there was no way that she could just sit back and watch while he rotted away in a cell. "You said we'd find help if we ran west, how much further?"
Kay did not know. He just knew that west was the direction his father would most likely come in once news of his escape proliferated. "Just a bit longer now," he said to ease the tension growing in the air.
They'd already left Wessex's border and were now traversing through the area of Gwent in hopes of eventually reaching the stronghold set at Cornwall at the far west. However, the men sent by Hengist were persistent. They had been chasing after them non-stop from the very beginning, leaving no time for rest or recuperation. It was one of the reasons they had to dismount from their horses, the animals unable to move any longer. Still, the primary reason was the openness of the plains and how easy it was to get spotted on horseback.
Gritting his teeth, Kay bore with the pain of his injuries and crawled his way ahead of Natalie on his forearms. It was better for him to lead as he at least had a general idea of where he was going.
The pursuit of Hengist's men wasn't that far behind them and he didn't want to make a fatal error and get caught again. To begin with, he'd only gotten captured due to the sudden routing Hengist had made when the man had personally taken to the battlefield and decimated his army's flank. The army collapsed, and a collapsed army was no army at all.
For all of Kay's skill, he could not defeat Hengist's army by himself. Worse, he had been surrounded.
The days of his imprisonment flashed across his mind, darkening his features as he realized just what kind of emotions Arturia must have had gone through because of his blunder. She'd already lost Shirou, he didn't know what she would do if she lost him as well. His hands balled into fists. That was why he had to keep living.
Face glancing up, he ignored his body's protest and surveyed the area around him. He had to make sure that there were no enemies around. With how exhausted he was, he'd hardly pose a threat if he was discovered let alone Natalie who had no combat ability to speak of whatsoever.
Still, fortune never favoured the weary.
The ground beneath him trembled, the tell-tale signs of a group approaching on horseback. He quickly pressed himself down to the ground hard, but his earlier action of looking up had already garnered notice. Damn it, Kay cursed in his mind.
Behind him, he could see Natalie's complexion paling.
Fuck it.
Kay was bleeding from a long cut atop his right eye, but it didn't stop him from detecting the silhouettes of the approaching company of armed individuals ahead.
There was no use trying to hide any longer. The effectiveness of the tall grass could only conceal them to a certain extent. The closer the enemy got, the easier it would be to spot them.
H stood up, a hand unsheathing his sword with a loose grip, his fingers just barely able to hold onto the hilt and steady the blade in front of him. There was a savage glint in his eyes, the will to survive stronger now than any before. He had a little sister that was depending on him.
Just as he was contemplating striking out first, he realized that the enemy before him did not wear the crest of the Jutes. Instead, it was an insignia that Kay could recall vividly partly because he was responsible for knocking out the teeth of a certain individual for daring to make his younger sister cry with a barbed comment. Shirou was Arturia's soft-spot, and the sentence that laid blame on Shirou death on Arturia had made her explode.
It ruined all relations with the nobles in a particular banquet, and only afterward when Arturia was alone and had calmed down did Kay notice her begin sobbing in the King's chamber.
Without another word, he'd secretly gone out and beat the shit out of the bastard who dared insult his younger sister for a second time. He didn't care if the bastard was still recuperating from Artuira's initial blows.
Arturia didn't know about this matter as Kay had been too enraged to discuss it with her, and she didn't have to. This was his problem, and he would be the one to solve it. Be that as it may, even though the people before him weren't Hengist's men, that didn't mean that they weren't enemies either.
Kay readied himself for a battle, but a battle wasn't what he as going to get.
Guarded at the center by the group of armed family Knights, was a carriage whose doors slowly swung open.
Kay's eyes promptly widened; he must have been mistaken. There was no way that the woman in front of him could be real, and more than that, she had even more of a motive to hate him because of Arturia. Therefore, why did it look like she had no intention of starting a conflict?
Still, he had to be careful.
"Might you be Sir Kay?" The woman's voice was soft, yet refined. The tone of an elegant lady amidst a grand ball or reception.
He readied his sword. Injured as he may be, he would not willingly concede to an enemy, yet her next words caught him off guard.
"Would you be in need of aid?" The woman continued in the next instant.
Kay blinked his eyes, once then twice, utterly bewildered.
Back in Castle Mordred, Arturia did not take well to Merlin telling her that there was 'nothing' needed for him to do. Shirou's memoires would return at their own time and rushing it may inadvertent do more harm than good.
She understood the logic of Merlin's words, but it only made her that much more impatient. She was in her personal room given to her in her position as King, but in all honesty, she'd prefer to get a standard lodging. The life she had led as a simple village boy was heavily ingrained in her habits. A bed of hay and cloth-lining along with a more enclosed room would probably allow her to sleep far better than a large yet empty room with only a single bed.
Nonetheless, she didn't exactly feel like sleeping at the moment.
She'd been thinking about it a lot over the course of the day. Even though she knew that Shirou remembered her, just how much of her did he actually recall?
Merlin had also said that the magic affecting Shirou had already been largely dealt with, so why was it that he still hung around Mordred rather than her at this very instant?
Truth be told, she was feeling acute emotions of jealousy and envy that she was largely unaccustomed to experiencing.
Being as Shirou had just regained his memories, perhaps it was just that he needed time to sort through them?
The thought made her optimistic, but the alternative that he was still missing key aspects of himself worried her considerably.
What if he no longer saw her as a woman?
The vile thought gave her pause, her lips subconsciously thinning and body tensing. She'd only realized that she'd left her bed chambers when a draft of cold wind struck her face. Even then, it was not enough to dispel her thoughts. Instead, she was further and further convincing herself as it was the only explanation that she had regarding Shirou's behaviour.
Although she knew that Shirou had known that she was a girl ever since their young adolescence and later years, the majority of the time they had spent together was with her masquerading as a man. If he'd only just regained his memories, how could she expect him to fully recall the events of the past?
Thoughts of Shirou treating her as a man nearly made her mind shut-down in denial. Now that she knew that Kay was no longer in enemy hands, she had to do something about the current situation, anything.
Thoughts that she'd never even considered before were slowly working their way into her head and beginning to sound plausible in her desperation.
It led to a predicament beyond even Merlin's discernment.
Without realizing what was happening, Merlin suddenly found himself in the company of his King who had not even bothered to knock upon entering the study he'd commandeered for his personal use.
She appeared furtive yet steadfast, but in Merlin's eyes, she was more hesitant and doubtful if he was being honest.
"Is there something you need?" He inquired, feeling that something wasn't quite right at the moment and abandoning his current projects to focus his attention. Although he was a womanizer, he was still serving as the Wizard of King Arthur. He knew when to be serious and when not.
Arturia seemed to have come to him for advice, and as her teacher, of course he had answers.
Still, Arturia seemed almost unsure about what to say, uncertain to the point that she fidgeting. It would have been amusing had she not caught him unexpectedly off guard when she finally found her voice.
"H-How do I seduce a man?" She asked softly, her expression and posture revealing how utterly out of her depth she was.
Merlin's only response was to place a hand over her forehead and cast a form of cleansing magic.
She kneed him in the groin for daring not to take her seriously when she'd worked up so much courage to ask.
Merlin felt utterly wronged, and there was only one person he could blame.
What kind of womanizing skill does that bastard of a student of mine possess to woo better than a half-incubus?
Merlin felt like crying as he inwardly demanded for the world to 'share the wealth.'
His clairvoyance would not help him here.
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