Chapter Text
7 classes, 7 heroes, 7 masters, so it was in the first holy war, and so it shall be till the end of time.
"My fate, resting on thy sword, if thou wilt bend to my will, my justice, heed the grails call and give your answer"
Saber, the one who protects, ever on the noble pursuit of justice.
"Born of fire, upon this foundation of iron and silver, heed the call of glory and make haste hither,"
Rider, the one who seeks, wanderlust rippling in their wake
"Become the wall that repels the gates, pass through the heavens, and descend"
Archer, the one who rebels, their loyalty kept deep within their own heart, not lightly enticed nor held.
"As each is fulfilled, so must each return to the nether, as each is returned so does the cycle complete,"
Lancer, the one who fights, perhaps not willingly, but always with a secret joy in their heart,
"Above them, the seven rings of magic"
Caster, the one who is cursed, doomed to be hated, feared.
"Yet, thou serves with thine eyes clouded in chaos. Thou, bound in the cage of madness. I am he who commands those chains"
Berserker, the one who is mad, kissed by Lyssa herself,
"Heed the grails call, and come forth to meet your master,"
Assassin, the one who kills, child of darkness and snuffer of light,
So it was before and so it shall be again,
Let the fourth holy grail war begin,
*****
The pulse runs through your body, magic far beyond the simplicity of the summoning, far beyond anything you've ever managed to call before, overflowing from the pentacle of sigils, vaporizing all but the most incorrigible blades of grass into ash and dust.
Now, now is the moment of truth. In truth you had half expected the whole thing to be an elaborate prank. A holy war of revived servants, battling to the death for an omnipotent object of wishes. Its laughable, completely foolish! Surely such an event could not have occurred under the eyes of the vast majority of the wizarding community six times already. And yet, there is no mistaking the otherworldliness of that pulse, nor of the ones you sensed three times already today, far in the distance and yet not far enough.
And there's also the figure rising to its feet right in front of you, that's a pretty clear sign that whatever this thing is it's not a joke.
The fog clears unnaturally fast, almost seeming to shun the clearing for the safety of the woods and the first aspect of your servant that you notice is hi-, no her hair. Obnoxiously orange, the colored embodiment of a raging bonfire and long enough to reach down to her waist. She steps closer, a single knee high boot in front, and the rest of her features become visible.
Striking violet tinged eyes look down from her vantage point of being at least a foot taller than you. The word knockout suits best, because though words like ravishing or voluptuous would also do justice, the hard glint in her gaze and the self collected way she cracks her knuckles leaves no doubt in your mind that this girl could destroy you with the merest touch.
"Hey cutie you still with me? You've been staring at me a while now" Her voice shocks you out of your thoughts.
"Uhh y-yes i-im here! I'm Waver Vel- wait first we should finish the ceremony how did it go, yea ok umm here we go" You take a small breath to calm your rushing heartbeat before pressing forward. A solitary bead of sweat is courageously makes its way down your brow despite the cool night chill. "Rider Class servant, my name is Waver Velvet and I shall be your master for the duration of this holy grail war or until either thine or mine death breaks the contract, do you accept the conditions?"
She studies you for what feels like an eternity before breaking into a sly grin. "Waver is it? I think you and I are going to have a LOT of fun in the next couple of weeks"
She walks up to you and kneels on one knee. Much to your shame, even kneeling her face is barely lower than yours. Her gaze lock onto yours even as her gloved hand rests upon your shoulders nearly knocking you off balance. Her eyes dance with a wild celestial joy, the only aspect of her appearance that gives away her immortality, and you shiver involuntarily. "I accept the contract Waver Velvet, my master" Her tone half borders on fanciful, sarcasm and mirth and mock reverence all mixed into an incomprehensible slurry.
Her hand lifts from your shoulders, her otherworldly gaze breaks from your own, and you remember how to breathe. She flicks her hair back with all the swagger of a siren among hags and marches back towards the center of the pentagram. You should call her back, there's details to go over, enemies to gauge, plans upon plans to evaluate and you don't even know if she would obey you if you ordered her to come back. Archer was supposed to be the most independent class, but looking at your servant you find that hard to believe. She's something else entirely.
She turns back, as if hearing your thoughts and beckons you forward. "Come on Waver we don't have all night"
"What do you mean we don't have all night, where did you want to go?? The path back to my house is this way, we should go back and make plans, also I'm the master why are you telling me what to do, you're supposed to obey me you know" The words come spilling out faster than thought and you half expect her to dismember you limb from limb by the time you finish. Instead she laughs, a rich hearty booming laugh, that reverberates in the air far longer than it should before finally dying.
"Plans, Schmans, there'll be time for all that boring stuff later. Right now the night is young and I feel like exploring this new shiny world I've been summoned in. If my dear master," She pronounces the last words with pure sincerity and it stings with mockery far worse than if she had lathed on the sarcasm, "is scared of the dark then he is free to go on home without me"
You sigh in exasperation. Of course you would get the servant that does whatever she wants whenever she wants it. Still all that matters is that she wins you the grail. And she is a thousand year old spirit or something, she probably knows what she's doing by now. "How do you even plan to get to where you want to go, its a half hour walk out of this forest and then about an hours walk to the city?"
Her hand makes an imperceptible gesture and you lose a small trickle in mana as a small flame rises up from the scorched grass. A silver flame, billowing jet black smoke, and right before your eyes the smoke morphs to metal, creaking and groaning as its shaped and battered into an elaborate machine. A large oversized elaborate machine that becomes more and more familiar by the second. The last piece of the frame solidifies in place and the fire wicks out of existence, leaving the largest most complex most dangerous looking motorcycle you have ever seen.
"Who said anything about walking?"
*****
Sakkura, this is all for Sakura. Her name echoes in your ears, drowning out the shouting, the terrible shouting Sakura sakura get out of my head servant get OUT OF MY HEAD BERSERKER sakura sakkkura tohsaka aoi rin this servant, my servant is going to kill you, kill sakura, KILL EVERYONE.
"Get up you sack of shit!" You feel his staff hit the flat of your back and you vow for the hundredth ti- no the thousandth time that whatever the outcome of the war you would see Zoken tossed to the same worms that he fed Sakura to, you would see his beloved pets rip every inch of flesh from him. Kill the maggot, The voices agree with you, just for this one thing, and that should scare you more than it does.
They're the voices of Berseker, you're sure of it, no other voice could make you want to cut yourself open and rip it out with your bare hands, no other voice could drown out even your hate for Zoken.
Let me take control, it croons, among other things. Let me kill the maggot. You almost accept, almost stop fighting against the maelstrom of chaos and rage. His death would certainly bring you no tears of sadness. But Sakura, it always came down to Sakura. Sitting upstairs, sitting, staring, with that haunting look that grew ever more unnatural with every night that passed. If you let Berserker take control, would you be able to stop? If you hurt her... It could never happen.
You dig your nails into your palms hard enough to draw blood and this sharp pain brings you back from the brink of madness. With an effort you shut out the voices and drag your ruined body up to a sitting position. Sitting, sitting is all you can manage right now. Salty blood runs down your fingers and you hardly notice so fixated you are on the kneeling figure in front of you.
Your first impression is that of a dark red creature, an unnatural abomination. The lopsided kneel was not that of a human but of some wilden jagbeast. Its only when it draws itself to full stature that you notice the form, the unmistakable form. It's nothing more than a child, a girl even judging by her shape. Bespattered by mud and blood, so much that not a speck of pink is visible, and wielding a hammer more than half a size, but still nothing more than a girl. The ravaged inside of your lip trickles rust with disappointment. How are you expected to hold off against saber or caster class servants with this?
Your father, bastard that he is, is laughing fit to kill. "I knew you would find some way to mess up your chances at winning but I didn't expect it to happen before the war even started" His staff digs into your back with a vengeance knocking your frail body face-first into the stone. You curse inwardly and get back up without a response.
"Well call it to attention why don't you? If it even responds to you that is"
"Berserker can yo-" You pause to spit out a glob of blood onto the stone. "Can you understand me?"
It had been looking down until now, hood blocking out everything except the mouth, but at your voice the head jerked back and the hood fell to the ground. It left the hammer and limped forward, movements more animalistic than human. Yes she was a girl, but she was also not. No girl walked like that, like a two-legged wolf stalking it's prey. No girl moved without opening her eyes, as if closed was the default position for her eyelids. No girl would have such mishapen hair, cut as if by a knife, shorter on one side than the other. Once they might have been curly flowing locks, they were too matted and bloody to say for sure.
It inches closer and closer, ever so silently and the cold suffocating aura steals your very breath. It stops in front of you, head cocked slightly to one side and you would swear that behind her eyelids she can see you, see inside you, read the very thoughts running around you- bleed maim ki- You shut your mind hurriedly, helplessly gasping for air to ground you back to sanity.
You try again, your clammy tongue stammering to pull together the words. "Berserker do you accept my as your master?"
It-she-it pulls her lips into a ghastly mockery of a smile, steak-knife fangs distorting the human more and more into beast. Her eyelids open, exorbitantly slowly as if for the first time. The sight pins you in place more effectively than if each of your limbs had been viciously nailed down.
Milky white pupils on a backdrop of endless thin inter-crossing veins. They could have hardly been worse if the entire eye had been white and any lingering hope that this was in fact a human, and not some unholy combination of hellspawns dissipates into the void.
I accept master it crows in your head, an ugly disshapen croon, each syllable butchered and bloody by a tongue that surely couldn't be human. Show me who to kill A different voice. The voice of a girl, mouth forming around the words with pre-pubescent gayness.
You spend the first night on your knees screaming.
*****
"Are you nervous daddy?" She insisted you follow her to her room and that she had a good luck charm to give you before... before it started.
"No Ilya" You lied, more for your sake than hers. The mage-killer would have lied, and thats who you needed to become again if you were going to win this war, to give Ilya a life outside of the holy wars. "Im excited that this is finally going to happen and after this is all over I'll come back and that'll be the last time I ever have to leave"
Her face lit up in a way a homonculus' was never supposed to. "I know you'll win daddy, you always do" She kept her grip on your hand tight, all the way to her room not even letting it go to lean down and rummage under her pillow.
"And just to make sure you win promise you'll keep this with you at all times okay?" She handed you a small walnut bud, the kind you would go out into the woods with her to find.
"I promise my princess"
"If thou wilt bend to my will, my justice, heed the grails call and give your answer"
The incantation dies out, and for all of several heartrending seconds there's nothing but silence. Seconds to contemplate failure, to panic- no the mage killer must remain collected at all times. Your heartbeat slows back to its normal pace and you grip Irisviel's hand reasurringly.
The wind starts up, a warm tropical wind in this closed off musty church, growing stronger and stronger until it threatens to drag you off your feet, howling in your ear all the while. You bear through it all, eyes fixed on the bursts of light emanating from the circle, on the sharp pang of mana seeping from your circuits. A final explosion of wind and the church returns to its quiet solemnity.
Saber is the strongest class, of that there is little doubt. They have a strong advantage over not just the magic classes but also over the other knight classes. In a fair one-on-one match saber could hold her own against even berserker. You could hardly ask for a better servant.
Your servant steps forward and you hear Irisviel give a gasp of surprise. A dark haired woman, clad in black armor, grasping an unsheathed katana at her side. Or rather, some weapon that looks like a katana. Not quite the look of a knight really, more dark than noble, but her walk is a warrior's walk and you give a small nod of satisfaction at the outcome.
"Are you my master?" Her voice is curt, every word tailored for its purpose and no more. It matches her disdainful glare.
"I am, are you of the servant class Saber?" It is not the saber you imagined, surely not the saber described in previous wars, but you think that you can work with this one.
"I am" She runs her left hand through her hair pulling out a dark headband. She snaps the band in two letting the pieces fall to the floor and only now do you notice perhaps the most curious aspect of her anatomy.
"C-cat ears!" Irisviel whispers in your ear, "Saber has cat ears"
You open your mouth to speak but she cuts you off before you can continue. "I am not one to mince words, particularly with strangers, particularly with the type of strangers who would participate in this holy war" She speaks with the poise of a leader, a king even, a tongue that would harbor no interruption nor allow disrespect. "But if I am to participate then I shall participate to win this war, therefore I shall talk and you shall listen and when I am done you will tell me everything you know about our opponents, our allies, our strengths, our weaknesses, our position, and the exact role of this young woman who apparently doesn't know the difference between Faunus and cat ears, do you understand master?" There was no guile, no threat, in her voice, just brute honesty. You nod assent.
"My name is Blake Belladonna. You will of course not call me by that name in any place the enemy may overhear. I am a faunus with superior senses than normal humans. I also have perfect night vision. Besides these advantages I also have all the advantages that come with being a heroic spirit, namely the ability to dematerialize and materialize at will as well as a couple of other small skills. My weapon of choice is Gambol Shroud, a modified katana weapon that can be turned into a pistol at moment's notice" She demonstrates as such, proving your suspicions that this is no ordinary weapon. "Currently it is missing a sheathe which I can only assume was the artifact used to bring me into this world" She notices Irisviel imperceptible nod and responds likewise. "I shall expect it before our first battle then. Is there any other information you feel is relevant master?"
"Just two Saber. First what is your stance on honor and fairness in the battlefield?" This was the key question, the reason you had not been wholly pleased with the Einzbern's artifact. If your servant hesitated on a single one of your plans, out of some misguided nobility or code, that could end your hopes for the holy grail. Such an obstacle if it existed, needed to be found out now.
She takes her time answering this question, scarred fingers tracing the edge of her weapon and along the groove of the hilt. When she finally deigns to speak again it's not quite the businesslike frankness that had dominated their conversation beforehand. Almost, but not quite. "My hand shan't be stayed by misguided convictions if that's what you fear. Honor will be given for those who don't fight and withheld from those who seek the grail. Does that answer your question master?"
"Perfectly. My second question Saber, is what wish you desire to ask of the grail?"
She stills at that, her scowl reaffirmed and her glare chilled to the core. "For all intents and purposes I have no wish” She pauses noting your unsatisfied expression. Motive affects every action, and this plan must take every factor into consideration if it is to succeed. “I see you yearn for more, let me make something very clear. I am but a tool of yours. I will kill and bleed for your naive hopeless fantasies and in return you will not seek to understand my motives and you will not deign to research my past do we have an understanding master?”
“For now” You do not intend to let it rest at that, not with something this important. Naive this dream might be, but hopeless never and you will see your wish granted by the grail if it means the death of you.
Still aside from this minor setback Saber has proven herself a servant beyond your wildest dreams. All that remained was to see her skill in combat and then the plan could commence in full.
“Come Saber I'll show you our defenses” You allow yourself a small grin as you push the grand doors open into the vast hallways of the Einzbern Fortress.