Chapter Text
Lancer awakens in what can only be a Mage’s workshop. He doesn’t see his new Lord at first—for some reason his entrance is…foggier than normal. As the fog clears—No, it’s dust, he realizes as he sneezes—he eyes the leather-bound books, the flickering candles and lamps, and a fascinating contraption that looks like a cross between a sewing machine and a printing press. I’ll have to ask what that device is—later. First…where is my Lord?
“Welcome, Lancer.”
Lancer spots him then—he’s clad in a red suit and leaning on a cane with a ruby tip. His eyes are a shade of blue that reminds Lancer of a sapphire ring he saw on a Lady’s finger a long time ago. There’s a keen sense of triumph in this man’s eyes, and Lancer already wants to see that look directed at him again.
But first, protocol has to be maintained.
“I ask of you: are you my Master?”
“I am, Lancer. My name is Tohsaka Tokiomi.” Tokiomi stands a little straighter—not that he needs to—and holds out his free hand. “I realize it’s not strictly necessary, but…shall we shake on it?”
Lancer stares at that hand, outstretched like his Lord didn’t just grant him a long-withheld boon. “Yes, but…”
Tokiomi looks surprised. “But what?”
Lancer scratches the back of his head, embarrassed. “…Well…it’s been a long time since a Lord I’m allied with offered his hand to me. It’s a foolish thing, forgive me.”
Tokiomi shakes his head and smiles. “I assure you, that’s not foolish.”
Lancer smiles back and clasps hands with his new Lord. “Very well, then. May our partnership be strong, my Lord.”
“I’m sure it will be.” It seems to be Tokiomi’s turn to look embarrassed. “By the way, calling me ‘my Lord’ is not necessary. Call me whatever you like. Well, except for insults; they’d be a waste of time and air.”
Lancer can’t help but laugh softly. “Alright, then. Would ‘Lord Tokiomi’ do?”
“Yes, I believe so. Come, we have much to talk about.”
---
Lancer instinctively winces when Lord Tokiomi introduces his wife Aoi. He tries to be subtle in covering his love-spot, but unfortunately both Lord and Lady notice.
Lord Tokiomi is clearly trying not to pity him. Lancer appreciates the effort. “That won’t be necessary, Lancer. I read up on your legend before summoning you.”
Lady Aoi smiles softly and holds up her wedding ring. “Tokiomi enchanted it to resist the curse. Since I wear it always, you’ll never have to worry about me falling for you.” She rummages in the pockets of her white cardigan and pulls out a band-aid. “And, well, this might not be as elegant a solution, but hopefully it will help.”
Lancer takes the band-aid from her delicate hand and carefully unwraps it. It fits over the love-spot and doesn’t obscure his vision, a perfect combination. His heart feels light and warm with sweet relief.
“…I thank you, my Lord and Lady. Now I can serve you without worry.”
“That was the plan,” Lord Tokiomi says, curling his arm fondly about his wife’s waist. “Would you like to meet my daughter?” He trips over the word, as though he meant to say daughters.
Lancer tactfully ignores the slip-up. “Certainly, but…isn’t it late?”
His Lord and Lady’s laughter is a pleasant sound, refined yet genuine. Lady Aoi answers his question: “Yes, it is, but I’m sure Rin has stayed up to try to catch a glimpse of you anyway.”
Lancer closes his eyes and focuses; low and behold, there’s a tiny presence at the top of the stairs nearby, listening in. “…Indeed, when I was young I would’ve done the same.”
Lord Tokiomi clearly senses the presence too. “You may come down, Rin—but only because it’s a weekend and can sleep in tomorrow.”
The little presence galumphs down the stairs—so fast Lancer quickly places himself at the foot to catch her if she trips—and Rin Tohsaka reaches the last step, nearly barreling into his chest.
“You’re tall,” Lady Rin exclaims, before going back a few steps to be able to see eye-to-eye with him. Her white nightgown is rumpled near her knees—she’s been listening for awhile. “Taller than Father! You must be part giant!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lancer says with a smile.
Lady Rin looks him up and down—her eyes catch on his spears in particular. “Are you a prince?”
“A Knight of Fianna, actually. I’m curious—what about me seemed princely to you, young Lady?”
Lady Rin reaches up solemnly and pokes at the curl that refuses to be slicked back. “That.” She giggles as the curl bounces.
“Rin!” Lady Aoi admonishes her, looking both amused and embarrassed. “Forgive her—”
“—Already done, my Lady.”
“Are you going to be working with Father?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, this means you may not be able to see your Father as much as you’d like. But I shall do my best to keep him safe from harm.”
Lady Rin looks sad for a moment, then places her hands on her hips with a determined frown. “You’d better promise!”
Lancer clasps his fist to his heart. “On my honor as a knight, I will bring your Father back to you, safe and sound.”
Lady Rin looks pleased. She peers over Lancer’s shoulder to look at Lord Tokiomi. “Father, you made a good choice!”
“It certainly seems that way. Now, Rin, it’s time for you to go to bed. When the sun is up, you can get up.”
Rin sighs forlornly and nods. “Fine. G’night.”
She makes her way back upstairs, leaning heavily on the smooth varnished railing as she climbs. Lancer suspects she won’t make it to her room before she nods off. Lady Aoi must think so, too, as she follows her daughter up the stairs.
Lancer turns to look at Lord Tokiomi. “Is Lady Rin your heir?”
“Yes. I’m sure she will give the Tohsaka family a bright future.”
“…Is something wrong, my Lord?” Something in Lord Tokiomi’s posture troubles him.
“Hmm? Oh, no, nothing. It’s just…it feels like I only held her in my arms for the first time yesterday. It’s strange to see your child grow up, that’s all.”
Lancer smiles. “It may reassure you to know that that strange sensation is a common symptom of parenthood, even back in my time.”
“Ha, yes.” The leather sofa creaks. “Were you ever a parent, Lancer?”
“…Possibly. However, I can say for certain I was a son, and my father voiced similar thoughts.” Lancer chuckles wryly. “You know…I’m a little jealous of Lady Rin. She can take her time to become an adult, she has you and her mother to teach her what she needs to learn…”
Lord Tokiomi sighs deeply. “If only it were so simple. Mages are taught young—a fresh mind isn’t as deeply entrenched in older thoughts; it can adapt and change with the times. Not that there’s much change to be had in the Mage community.” His laughter is brittle and forced. “One day, Rin will have to learn how to push aside her humanity for her own goals. And I’m unsure if I want to be there when that happens.”
Lancer raises his eyebrows. “How unfortunate that I promised to keep you alive, then.”
Lord Tokiomi looks at him with an unreadable expression. “…Lancer, was that a joke?”
Lancer immediately backpedals. “Forgive me, Lord Tokiomi, I didn’t intend—”
Lord Tokiomi is laughing sincerely now, albeit muffled by his hand. “Wait, wait, you misunderstand. That was actually rather funny. The last Mage who summoned you neglected to mention your admirably-dry wit.”
“…There are records about me from my previous Lords?” Lancer knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow it still startles him.
“Yes, and like all notes created by Mages they were difficult to crack.” Tokiomi inclines his head. “In nearly all of them, you were regarded well. Those that claimed you were unreliable, well, the writers themselves were foolish enough to either not research your legend or thought they were above such things.”
“…What if those ‘fools’ were the right ones?”
Tokiomi groans softly as he stands, propping himself on his cane. “Well, then.” His eyes burn with the embers of ambition. “We’ll just have to prove them wrong, won’t we?”
“With pleasure, my Lord.”
---
There’s a few days before the Holy Grail War officially begins, and thus Lancer finds himself seated next to a veritable army of stuffed animals around a child’s table and cherry blossom-patterned tea set.
“Part giant”, indeed. Lancer carefully holds the tiny porcelain teacup in his hand and hopes he won’t accidentally crush it.
“Would you like some more tea, Sir Lancer?” Lady Rin asks, holding the teapot eagerly.
“Yes, please.”
“Say ‘when’.”
He holds out his cup and watches the steam from the tea curl up toward the ceiling. Outside, rain drums against the windows of the mansion like nature’s call to arms. It drowns out the pouring tea with ease.
“‘When’. Thank you.” The tea really is delicious, a mixture of honey and lemon that soothes his throat.
Lady Rin fills each of the stuffed animals teacups in turn, humming softly to herself. When she reaches the empty cushion next to her, however, she turns away so fast the teapot nearly leaves her hands.
Lancer keeps himself from sticking his nose into his Lady’s business by taking another sip of tea. It’s not a knight’s place to ask such things, after all.
“Sir Lancer, have you ever rescued princesses?” Lady Rin asks, having set the teapot down with a slight clunk.
“On occasion. But princesses normally didn’t stray far from their own knights, even in those days. Why do you ask?” Lancer suspects the answer.
“If I…” Lady Rin begins. She shakes her head and smiles a smile remarkably like her mother’s—but far more false. “Forget it, it’s nothing!”
Lancer smiles back and gestures to their furry companions. “Are all these toys yours?”
“Nope! Half are mine, half are my sister’s. Her name’s Sa—” Lady Rin’s expression turns thunderstruck. “You tricked me!”
“I merely asked you a question.” He is curious about that unfinished question of hers. “But if your sister is an unapproachable subject, then I’ll ask no more.”
Lady Rin seems appeased. It always impresses Lancer how quickly a child’s mood can change. Adults seem to be able to hold grudges until the end of time, while children can forget misunderstandings in an instant. But lost trust is impossible to regain at any age…
Raindrops race each other down the windowpane as the tea party continues unabated.
Perhaps I should ask Lord Tokiomi instead…
---
“I heard from Lady Rin that she has a sister,” Lancer says, as Lord Tokiomi runs a slender hand across one of his many bookshelves in search of a tome.
“Had.” Lord Tokiomi sounds very tired. “Rin had a sister.”
“Is she…?” Lancer has never been sure how to ask this question, let alone to a parent.
Lord Tokiomi finds the green leather book he seeks. “Thankfully, she’s not dead. But, like all Mage children, she had to be sent to an allied family to be tutored in magecraft. Now, she’s a member of the Matou family. It was that or have Rin and Sakura’s relationship twisted by jealousy.”
Lancer wants to say There is always a third option, but obviously it’s too late now. “Rin misses her sister.”
“We all miss her. But, we’ll see her again—at school, in Rin’s case, or at various Mage functions when she gets older. It may feel as though she’s gone forever, but that isn’t the case. Feel free to take a seat, Lancer.”
“I see.” Lancer sits down on one of the chairs, his hands draped between his spread knees. “Forgive me for asking such a rude question, Lord Tokiomi.”
“You’re forgiven. Actually, it’s a good thing you came down here. Assassin has been killed.” Lord Tokiomi says those four words casually, as if over dinner.
Gooseflesh rises on Lancer’s neck, but he wills himself to be professional—glad, even, that a rather slippery opponent is out of the running. Is this what my Lord meant by “pushing aside one’s humanity”?
“That could be a good thing. How did he die?”
“He was trying to scope out the Master of Archer’s hiding place—but Archer found him first.” Lord Tokiomi sounds slightly baffled, as if there had been a plan set in motion but was now halted.
“Lord Tokiomi, are we allied with Assassin’s Master?” Lancer controls his tone carefully so as not to be presumptuous.
“We were, yes, but now he’ll have to retreat to the Fuyuki Church, the neutral ground.”
“Understood.” Lancer shifts in his seat. “As the Grail War has now started early, what would you have me do?”
Lord Tokiomi’s eyes are shadowed in the flickering orange light. “Send out your challenge and fight whoever answers first.”
Lancer chuckles low in his throat. “With pleasure, my Lord.”
---
His first challenger is Saber, and her skill with a sword is unparalleled—even if her blade is hidden from the naked eye.
They whirl and thrust, the shipyard echoing with the clash of iron-on-iron. Lancer has missed this sound and the exhilarated feeling that comes with it the way one misses an old friend. And this Saber, her green eyes as bright and deep as the fields of Ireland, could be a wonderful friend.
It’s almost a shame I have to kill her. But my Lord is counting on me, so regrettably…
Lancer lunges forward, Gae Dearg’s pointed tip thrust toward Saber’s face. Unfortunately, Saber manages to duck out of the way, the red blade scraping against her cheek and narrowly missing her eye.
“Saber!” Her red-eyed Master calls out her name in anguish, her silvery hair whipping around her face from the wind of Lancer and Saber’s impact.
Lancer’s heart sinks. What would Lord Tokiomi do if he heard such a plaintive cry? Would he truly be able to ignore the pain of a defenseless “enemy”?
…If I may interrupt, Lancer, it depends on the enemy. Lord Tokiomi sounds more amused than annoyed. You may ask such questions out loud any time you wish.
Lancer’s ears burn. …Thank you for both the answer and boon, my Lord.
Lancer refocuses in time to see another Master-Servant pair have a chat of their own.
“I’m unharmed, Irisviel,” Saber says, wisely not taking her eyes off Lancer. “Fear not for your knight’s safety!”
“If you say so,” her Master replies, her voice tinged with her relief, a small smile on her face.
“You are a valiant soul, Saber,” Lancer says, no longer bothering to obscure compliments with his own pride. “I’m truly saddened that you and I must fight against each other on the battlefield, instead of side-by-side.”
“As am I.” Saber’s smile is small and sad. “Perhaps, in another time, that could be possible.”
“I hope so.” Lancer readies his spears, warm and reassuring in his grasp. “Shall we begin again?”
“Of course,” Saber says, and is a blue blur rushing toward him once again.
This time, after bracing himself in the gravel beneath his feet, Gae Buidhe finds its mark on her left hand. He’s unsure if he’s pleased or saddened by the blood trickling down and out of her gauntlet, staining her sword’s hilt and the ground below. Either way, one thing is certain: she is a strong opponent who he needed an advantage over.
Saber’s Master notices that her healing isn’t working and orders a retreat. Lancer lets them go—after all, there’s no honor in fighting an unarmed and wounded enemy.
Through their telepathic link, Lord Tokiomi chides him gently: They could pose a problem later, you know.
I realize that, my Lord. But as of right now, we are still the victor here, and there are others to fight.
Very well. Continue onward. And Lancer?
Yes, Lord Tokiomi?
Win, no matter the cost.
---
Lancer has always prided himself in being as exceptional a vassal as he possibly can. So seeing this shadow-enshrouded…beast rage and thrash about like a madman, heedless of his Lord’s obvious illness as he and Lancer fight…Lancer’s blood seems to boil with rage beneath his skin.
It doesn’t help that the fight has been long and difficult, full of trying to get within stabbing distance and failing, or slicing through various Noble Phantasmed telephone poles or metal containers or even bicycles being thrown his way. Sweat on his shoulders and brow cools in the night air, but he’s still struck with unrelenting tiredness and frustration. This fight must end, and quickly.
“You dishonor the armor you wear, mad warrior!”
Berserker lets out a thunderous roar and throws yet another telephone pole at him.
It’s large and heavy enough to be dodged easily.
Lancer, Lord Tokiomi’s voice echoes loudly in his mind. Use the pole—
—As leverage! Lancer nearly laughs in delight at how their minds mesh.
Lancer jumps out of the way, then uses the pole as a jumping off point to lunge at Berserker, Gae Dearg outstretched.
Lancer’s lips curl into a grin as Gae Dearg easily shatters Berserkers armor, leaving his vulnerable throat exposed. Berserker can only make a feeble gurgle as spear pierces through soft, graying flesh.
To spare the mad warrior a slow, painful death, Lancer cleaves Berserker’s head from his shoulders, his muscles straining slightly with the effort.
Well done, well done indeed! Barely-contained mirth bubbles beneath Lord Tokiomi’s “voice”.
Lancer’s too joy-struck to reply.
Berserker’s Master, rivulets of blood and tears of pain mixing and streaking down his face, looks momentarily stunned. Lancer’s skin crawls as the feeble, gray-haired Mage lets out a moan of despair and crumples to the ground.
Lancer and Lord Tokiomi’s thoughts merge into one: It would be a mercy to kill him now.
Lancer raises his hand. Gae Dearg gleams in the moonlight, poised to cleave yet again.
“Do you have any last words, Master of Berserker?”
Berserker’s Master gathers his final breath. “…Sakura…I’m sorry…”
Lancer’s aim is true. His heart aches.
He recoils as foul-smelling green-grey worms explode out of the corpse’s severed neck. They try to squirm away in all directions. Lancer feels letting them escape would be a mistake, and quickly destroys them. The corpse, unfortunately, is next.
Lord Tokiomi’s voice in the mental link is weary. Good work, Lancer.
If you say so, Lord Tokiomi.