Fate-in time

83

All good things must come to an end. The longer the wait, the larger the ensuing tragedy. This was the way of life itself. Empires rise and fall, civilizations begin and end, it was a cycle unchangeable even for magi. Even the strongest of them all, those born in the Age of the Gods and the most attuned to the mystic arts met their ends through old age.
W

here there is a start, there is surely a finish; however, the ending of one era merely signals the beginning of another, and this time surely her era had come. There was not a doubt in Morgan's mind. All these years of careful planning, scrutinizing her work, scrapping it, and then starting all over again, it would not be for naught.
If all reality had to offer was the bleak negativity of jealousy, yearning, and spite, why was she even born if all the happiness and praise was to be taken by the younger child? They were sisters, women born to a lineage of royalty, and yet only one was recognized. Perhaps this was where she'd first become disillusioned to everything.
This was a story of a woman who'd fallen into the pits of her own despair and learned to scorn everything about her life.
Laugh, grin, snort! It's funny isn't it? Watching a fool desperately floundering for attention and praise that she'd never have?
Once upon a time, she'd spent hours perfecting all manner of Noble etiquette to the point that she was known as the most graceful of all ladies in the land. No suitor would ever deny her, no scholar would claim to know better than her, what was it all for? It was all just to be gifted away as the bride for some political marriage. Her dear father had never once acknowledged her, and instead focused his efforts over a prophecy spoken by a philandering wizard. To that end, he gave little Arturia the protection of his most trusted Knight, and even hid Arturia away from all harm.
Morgan would never forget this scene. If Arturia was to be the light of the moon, then she was nothing more than the backdrop despite their status as sisters. If Arturia was to be King despite her gender, then Morgan as the first born had basically lost her entire inheritance to the second child. The way baby Arturia had cooed at her ignorant to all the things that she had was the final straw for Morgan. She would not play support to a second fiddle like her father had asked of her before he died.
She'd prove everyone wrong and show that she was just as capable of allowing the kingdom to prosper under her rule. That would be the greatest form of revenge. To prove her own worth while spitting on the faces of those that stole what was rightfully hers. She never even considered what would happen if she failed, as this was one of the shortcomings Uther had long since seen.
Morgan possessed an excellent mind and fortitude, but she never considered the option of failure. No, perhaps she never understood Uther's intentions from the beginning lost in her own envy, and this was perhaps the biggest tragedy of a downward spiraling fall into hate.
Morgan the Fair soon became Morgan the Witch. She who plotted to overthrow a kingdom in order to rule it as her own. She'd been biding her time for years, and was now ready to act.
Everything led up to this point in her life, hiding away in a dim ethereal space of her own creation and studying the intricacies of boundaries theory. She'd had a plan from the beginning, but was forced to scrap it due to unforeseen variables popping up by her younger sister's side. What was even more vexing was that the brat was born with everything, yet still carried a charisma that attracted the loyalty of the talented. Worse, she married for the sake of love, a concept that Morgan herself never knew.
Little Arturia really did have everything, which was why she will soon understand how it feels like to have it all taken away. The more you have, the more you realize what you've lost in the end. Will she cry? Mourn? Despair? Or swear vengeance upon her children and husband's graves?
Morgan's vanity made her assume that Arturia would follow in her footsteps as if to justify her own actions. Only then, when the two of them met through the mutual understanding of loss and grief would she be willing to listen to whatever her brat of a sister had to say. Only those who understand a certain type of pain may qualify to lecture those who've endured the same pain. This was why she knew if this day ever came, it would not end in forgiveness or words of comfort, but with heart-wrenching fury and devastation.
Arturia would fall into her own madness, and then she will know of the motivations that had driven Morgan herself to committing such acts. At this point, it wouldn't matter to Morgan if she got killed or not. At least someone would be able to understand her and be around to protect the kingdom in her stead.
So, the plan must go on. It would cripple Camelot from the inside out, but in the end, Camelot was strong. She couldn't imagine it falling just because of removing the current King and Queen. Not when she was still alive to keep it standing. After all, what was the point in wrestling control of the kingdom if there was nothing left to rule?
If not for Shirou Ashton, Morgan would have acted far earlier.
"Now then," she muttered darkly, fingers curling and index finger pointing forward towards a magic circle. "Let it begin."
To kill a monster, if not through brute force or skill, was to turn its strength into weakness, and it would all begin through the hands of one person.
Dear, dear child, perhaps you can still be of use yet.
Mordred flinched while hissing in discomfort, a hand quickly placing itself by her left temple, but the action went largely overlooked within the din of ringing steel and reverberating armour. No one was the wiser, since Mordred herself quickly schooled her features when she noticed Shirou glance in her direction.
She swore Shirou had an uncanny ability to detect whenever something was bothering her, though she supposed it was her fault for not being so forth coming. She knew full well that she said and did many things she may not necessarily mean both to protect her image as a Knight, and to keep others from getting to know her too well. However, this was a defence mechanism that stemmed from an inherent fear of others rejecting her.
What sort of Knight liked cute things? When seeing an animal or a tiny piglet or puppy for example, she had the urge to hold them close but never acted on such impulses. To make it worse, she even boasted about how weak willed a Knight had to be in order to like such things. This was why she'd been left red-faced when she showed up to her room one day and found a row of tiny stuffed animals Shirou had secretly arranged for her.
The fiend could see right through even on the worst of days, and what happened just now was no different.
Shirou may not have seen her flinch, but the way he glanced in her direction spoke volumes for his intuition. She smiled wryly at him and mouthed that she was fine.
She hadn't forgotten her promise to come to him if she was ever in trouble. For the same reason, she didn't want to take advantage of this fact and burden him with simple trivialities. She was just having a migraine. She was sure of it. Besides, she'd feel too guilty if Shirou underperformed in his current task just for her sake.
Shirou was in the middle of all the chaos and was quickly leaving the impression of an unstoppable Nordic warrior. What would happen if he abruptly ceased all fighting in order to take her temperature or something as stupid as that?
Knowing Shirou, it was definitely something he'd do without hesitation. So, no; she was not going to tell him that she suddenly wasn't feeling well. "Kick their asses!" She was soon screaming again.
She winced, the throbbing in her head almost causing her to whimper, but she was better than that. She grunted instead and made the decision to wear her helmet again so that no one would notice her pained grimace. She looked down at her hands and noticed that they were trembling, the complexion of her skin appearing somewhat pale.
Why was she getting a fever now of all times? Her knees wobbled, causing her to fall, but she masked her sudden weakness by looking as if she intended to sit down in the first place. She bowed her head in the next second and dared not look up to where Shirou must have been keeping an eye on her to make sure she was safe and happy. The sentiment was received with much warmth, but was not needed in this instance.
Mordred would be damned if she was the reason Shirou would fail at anything so she gritted her teeth and endured, not knowing that it wasn't Shirou that she should have been paying attention to.
Not far from Mordred was Arturia. Unlike Shirou who was fighting in a bet, she noticed Mordred's sudden weakness and made her way over after signalling to Natalie. Merlin's magic was potent to the point that unless people were actively looking for anyone in particular, they would not be found in the illusion.
Needless to say, when Mordred suddenly found herself being steadied by Arturia of all people, she froze. The admiration Mordred had for Arturia in her time as King was still there, and it had only grown as she watched Arturia do her best to perform her duties as Queen in Camelot despite her inadequacies in the role. What Arturia didn't know, she learned much in part to Lady Guinevere, but Mordred had seen Arturia's efforts and understood how hard it was to start acting like a noble lady after growing up raised like a man. If Mordred herself decided to live life as a woman, she could already picture how difficult it would be. The fact that Arturia persevered was praiseworthy.
"Are you alright, Mordred?" Arturia's ever composed voice sounded in Mordred's ears, making it clear that there was no hiding her weakness from Arturia's discerning eye.
The time that the two had spent in each other's company had fostered a kin-like relationship. It was a fact that the two were family, and even if they didn't fully get along, they would still lend aid without question.
"I-I'm fine," Mordred stuttered out, her expression flushed in embarrassment for showing her weakness to someone she admired. She tried to stand up to prove her point, but it backfired when her legs acted like jelly and went limp. She couldn't even get up even if she wanted to. She was half-way pushed off the ground and that was as far as she could go no matter how hard she strained herself.
The stare Arturia was leveling on Mordred caused no end to her mortification.
"I'm fine really," Mordred stressed to no effect. "Okay, I think I may have been pushing myself too much and have come down with a fever. Perhaps I can't move right now and may need some help, but I should still be fine to fulfill my duty as the King's guard with a little rest."
"Good. It's always better to be honest and know when to ask for help. Wait, I should write that down to teach to Artus and Annabel later." Arturia really did take out a pad of paper and a writing quill. Not for the first time, Mordred noted that aspects of Arturia had changed ever since becoming a mother. "Now then, lets get you to a place to rest at. Knowing Shirou, he should be able to handle the rest. In fact, I trust him to. Don't you?"
"…Fine. I'll take your help." Mordred conceded.
Arturia nodded, and gingerly supported Mordred to her feet before the two began walking towards the tent prepared for Natalie. Once there, Arturia gingerly placed Mordred on a bed and placed a blanket over her.
Much to Mordred's confusion, Arturia showed no intention of going back to watch Shirou. Instead, she pulled up a chair and sat near Mordred's bedside. She was clearly staying behind for Mordred's sake in order to properly look after her. Not once did Arturia's attention ever stray; however, Mordred just wasn't used to this level of concern barring Shirou who'd made himself a part of her life.
"You, what are you trying to do?" Mordred said in a fluster. "I'm the kind of person who can't rest properly when someone stares at me."
"Is that so?" Are you going to continue?
Mordred shut her mouth, noticing Arturia's reply for what it was. Her stance. Arturia would not leave despite whatever excuse Mordred could come up with.
Mordred huffed, turned her face away, and pulled the blanket up to her neck.
The two spoke not a word any longer, but in the silence, Mordred was suddenly thankful that she'd be able to experience this kind of situation in her life. She'd been taught early on that the only one that she could rely on was herself, but now it was different.
For the first time in her life, barring Shirou, she felt what it was like to be part of a family. The unconditional care and concern shown among relatives had been all too foreign to her, but she now understood just why some people would be willing to die for the sake of kin.
It was a pleasant feeling.
"Thank you," she muttered out softly.
"Did you say something?"
"Nothing. I said nothing, so drop it," Mordred shied away.
Meanwhile, Shirou concluded his bout much to the awe of the Saxons watching.
Hours later, Arturia could only watch in concern as Mordred began writhing in pain inside their shared tent, thrashing back and forth to no relief. Sweat matted her brows, her eyes pursed tightly as she bit down on her lower lip.
Arturia's first instinct was to feel for any magic, but she could sense nothing of the sort. Or at least, it could be a type that she was too inexperienced to detect. Of course, it could just not be magic in the first place.
Arturia had never been experienced with colds and fevers as her constitution all but prevented her from catching them, but even she could tell that this wasn't normal. Was this perhaps one of those famous diseases or plagues she'd heard about? She didn't know, as she wasn't an expert. Therefore, she instantly decided to search for consultation.
If there was anyone with answer and could be just as knowledgeable as Merlin, it was Shirou. However, Arturia wasn't the only one to come this conclusion.
"D-Don't."
Just as Arturia had gotten up to leave, a hand grabbed the hem of her gown.
"I'm fine. This is just a headache," Mordred pleaded, straining to keep her eyes open.
Fine? Then why was your grip so weak, and your breaths so laboured?
Arturia didn't believe one word of what Mordred said, but she could see the panic in her gaze. Most likely, she didn't want to put Shirou in a bad position. If he learned that there was something wrong with her, then he'd definitely abandon the current mission and return to Camelot to seek guidance from Merlin if he couldn't find a way to fix it.
"You know as well as I what kind of person Shirou is. You'll only make him angry by not telling him."
Mordred flinched, shrinking back in on herself, but not once losing her grip on Arturia. "Just give me until tomorrow. This is just a cold. It will blow over with some rest."
Arturia sighed. Just like her, Mordred possessed the same level of stubbornness. There was no use in arguing, as there was no way she could convince Mordred otherwise. Based on herself, it was a losing battle that would serve only to strain her relationship with Mordred. Besides, she knew how Mordred was feeling all too well in her adolescence with Shirou. One of her worst fears had always been to drag him down rather than fight alongside him.
"Fine. You have until tomorrow. I'm telling him first thing in the morning if you're not better."
She conceded despite her better judgement. She could only hope that she wasn't making a mistake. She'd made enough of those throughout her life; here's to hopping the trend wouldn't continue.
Shirou, please tell me I'm not making a mistake.
Fan art for chapter 76 by Alex Kellar on Deviant art here: alex-kellar/art/Fate-s-day-845563370
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Summary of book:
Death. Grief. Ruin. Nothing was left unchanged after an unexplained tragedy led to the loss of millions across the world in key locations. Cities were reduced to wastelands of steel and concrete, and many were forced into migration. When events leading to the prior tragedy occur once more, Kevin Black was going to have to learn that sometimes mysteries were better left unsolved. Trapped with his friends in the world of a ruined city filled with monsters, the journey out would be far more perilous than the journey in.