towerofanimus | ITP: Meandering

Entry tags:

ITP: Meandering

Characters: Arturia Pendragon [AU5] and anyone
Setting: Dorms, Floor One, Floor Twenty-~~three~~four, and Floor Thirty-eight.
Format: Prose
Summary: Arturia wakes up in the tower after what must be countless centuries of forced combat.... and has no idea what to do with herself!
Warnings: DEATH! WOOHOO! In the first post, too! \o/

[Room 03-17]
It was with a jolt and a gasp that she finally sat up, hand going to her neck only to find the collar there but all the same she could move. She could move. She could breathe.

"W-what?"

She could speak.

What was this place? Yet another battlefield in which she'd be made to slaughter guilty and innocent alike endlessly, an angel of death garbed in blood-stained white for all to see? It made no sense to her. None whatsoever. She glanced around the room for any sign of what she was meant to do but only found other beds like the one she laid on and a trunk much like the one at the foot of her bed. Her eyes finally fell on the notes and she snatched them up, reading them thoroughly, her heart squeezing with every moment.

The world was.... gone? She was free? Free from her punishment?

Arturia had no idea how to feel about this. On the one hand even she could be grateful of the reprieve, but on the other hand it had been at the cost of who knows how many lives? And what if the world itself was still in tact? Would she go right back to fighting endlessly as soon as she returned? Questions. So many questions she didn't understand, but she balled up her notes and placed them in the trashcan. With barely a thought she summoned what was now her normal attire, sans the collar. Apparently the collar placed on her here superseded it. No matter. It wasn't like she was really attached to anything beyond her sword at this point.

And so Arturia headed out of her dorm, wanting to know just where she'd wound up and where to go from here.

[Floor One]
If there was one indulgence she would allow herself, it was food. Naturally when she'd read she'd have to eat some oatmeal before she could eat anything else she'd been fine with it.

There wasn't much of a spread in the cafeteria, simply eggs for breakfast, and once she was done with her oatmeal she tore into them like a hyena. It wasn't very kingly or knightly or even as lady-like as her appearance would suggest, but it was something. They were not the best made nor would it have been memorable otherwise--but it was food! Real food! And a delicious smell beyond the smell of blood and steal she never knew she'd grow tired of.

Part of her mind went back to those meals in Fuyuki, how warm the house had been, how Shirou had insisted she eat at the table with everyone else despite her and Rin's protests.

How delicious the meals had been, cooked with a care and pride not common in her time. Arturia found her appetite gone, the food tasting like ash, but not wanting to waste it, she forced herself to finish, though she no longer looks happy about it.

[Floor Twenty-Two to Floor Twenty-Four]

Wait, had she lost count of the floors? Arturia thought back for a moment. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, she could have sworn she just went past the twenty-third floor to explore, so why could she not remember it. She turned on the stairs to check again. She needed to be thorough in creating a mental map of this place and the dangers it could present.

Except she bypassed it again! What was wrong with her? Had she been controlled for so long her senses were completely dull?! With a frustrated sigh she turned again to go up the stairs--

--and again she missed the floor entirely! And again! Again again again she kept missing it. This tower would not make a fool of her! She turned yet again, this time counting the number of stairs to make sure she didn't miss the floor, a determined look on her face, and unaware of how her body was slowly becoming vaguely transparent time she passed the twenty-third floor.

[Floor Thirty-Eight]
Her body didn't ache after climbing so many stairs like a normal person would, but Arturia knew there was only so much time in the day. The elevator would be a few flights up and then she could see about returning to her dorm to become further acquainted with her roommates. But for now this room seemed as good enough place as any to rest and gather her thoughts.

The elation of being able to move freely, to speak freely, to make her own choices was starting to lose its novelty. Arturia sank into a bean bag chair, for once in her now-long life not caring how dignified she looked in doing so. If the world had, indeed, ended and she had, somehow, been saved, it left one question on her mind that she couldn't hold back any longer. For so long everything had been clear before her, her path marked with a vivid certainty she could not take her eyes from.

Only now it was gone. Gone not just in the world itself being gone, but her Kingdom, her friends, every last person had been lost to her by coming here; destroyed by her own hand. For so long she had believed there was no escaping her fate, her punishment, and now here she was, completely and utterly alone and lost.

"What do I do now?" she asked aloud both for the novelty and because some part of her mind was beginning to settle into a sort of malaise of "who cares"?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

More than long enough for the door to the room to burst open and the blackened knight still in full armor with bared blade in hand to enter. Dark prana swirling about her, Saber stopped to stand over the white version of herself. Staring down at Arturia's paralyzed body, her eyes locked onto the other woman's and she raised Excalibur above her. For a long moment, she seriously thought about cutting the woman down again - long enough for a drop of Arturia's own blood to drip off of the sword to stain that white dress.

But no. This other self of hers was completely defenseless. Slaughtering her would be a dishonorable act and, even as corrupt as Saber was, she still held her honor. So, the blade was dismissed and Saber... sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.

"If for some reason, your wits have left you and you still do now know who I am, allow me to remind you. I am Arturia Pendragon, rightful and true heir of Uther Pendragon, and King of the Britons. I am from the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War," she said, eyes still looking over the form of her other self with disdain. She was so girly. "When you can speak, you will answer this question before you ask your own: which War are you from?"

And then Saber sat and waited, never once taking her eyes off the other woman.

It wasn't like she liked the girly dress either. If she'd had the chance she would have pointed this out. As it was, her eyes followed her other self, looking into her face as Excalibur was held above her. Yet, somehow, she knew this version of herself would not do it. She was completely defenseless and even if she was not honorable she would likely not want her to have further reason for comparisons to Morganna.

Even then, Arturia found, she wasn't afraid of the pain. More disturbing was the sight of a corrupted Excalibur and yet again she had to wonder how this came to pass. That sword had been her pride, a symbol of her pride and honor. What could have happened to twist it so? Her eyes did not leave it until it was dismissed and then they moved to look up at her corrupted self, the smell of her prana making her ill more than any blood possibly could. It reminded her of that first battle, the people of Camelot screaming and writhing and trying to run from her and from each other as they were consumed.

To this day, Arturia didn't know if she had succeeded in clearing it all out.

When the paralysis finally went away she sat up, flexed her hands and arched her back simply to remind herself she now had some measure of freedom again. However, she knew very well her own tolerance for frivolities so she turned to her other self after only a moment and said:

"I am from no Grail War."

After all, how could she when she'd given up her right to her own legend long ago?

Saber didn't move as Arturia sat up and stretched a little. She watched her carefully, wondering what would have happened has she been seen by her people like that. A white queen. There was no way this Arturia was a king. Not dressed like that.

"I did not ask you which Grail War you were from. I asked you which War you were from," Saber pointed out with a bit of an edge in her voice. "You carry Caliburn. That sword was broken a very long time ago."

"I know. I broke it originally fighting...." she reached up, touching one temple as she tried to remember. While there were things that stood out--Morganna's singsong taunts, Mordred's voice as he begged to know why during his final breath, major events of the Fourth War, most of the Fifth War--her memory had many holes in it, like a blanket that was slowly accumulating holes. It was disturbing to realize she couldn't remember precisely how she'd broken the sword, but she could venture a guess.

"Perceval? I don't know why I have it again. I should not even be recognized by it anymore."

Saber's eyes closed and she bowed her head a little. "Close. His father, King Pellinore."

Had she not forced that fight over that Beast that reflected everything her nightmares were telling her of her son and the unforgivable act of her sister... She'd known she had no right to the Beast and the quest belonged to Pellinore. She should have died then... and would have if Merlin hadn't been there. What would have happened had she perished by her own unchivalrous act? Would Pellinore have taken the throne of Britain and been a better king than she?

"Let me see it. Caliburn will always recognize the true king of Britain."

Though Saber had her doubts if it would accept her touch. Avalon rejected her because of the corruption and she could not even hold it in her hand. Would Caliburn do the same?

Arturia did not let the brief moment of panic that went through her show on her face. Pellinore? She couldn't recall the name at all, nor Perceval's father at all or what the fight had been about. Caliburn had been her one link to the past, her one link left to her kingdom and her identity and she could not even properly remember how she broke it in the first place? Would she keep losing bits and pieces of herself like this until she could no longer remember even Guinevere or Irisviel or Shirou, painful as the memories of them were?

For a brief childish instant she didn't want to give this woman Caliburn, fearing she'd be able to hold it, that it would recognize her as High King and then reject Arturia. Yet, she recognized, she had given up the right to it when she'd made her wish, when she'd asked the Grail to choose someone else as High King in her place. She'd lost any right to even the title of 'King of Knights' the moment she beheaded Shirou without a second thought.

Silently, she held up her hand and brought forth Caliburn. Then, finding herself unable to look, she held it out for her other self to take. It took tremendous effort to keep her hand from trembling, to keep her fear of the one thing that had stood by her through her personal hell deciding this dark corrupted self was a better Master than she. Even if it became twisted by corruption as Excalibur had been, it'd be a better fate than being carried by a parody such as she herself had become.

The sword was before her again and she stared at it. Her eyes roamed over every inch, over the gold inlaid into it, the jeweled nature of it. It was inferior to Excalibur as it was a king's sword and not a knight's sword. Should the two blades clash, Excalibur would be the victor as a king's sword was more ceremonial than practical.

And yet, Saber had stared at Caliburn many a time while it was buried in the stone. She'd watched so many try to pull it before the lords and knights had given up on it as being irremovable. It was alone with just the eyes of an old wizard and a few others passing by upon her that she'd taken the hilt and drawn it smoothly from the stone. It was hers by right.

Saber reached her hand out to take it, but stopped. No, it wasn't an aura from the sword preventing her or anything, but her own actions that stopped her. Caliburn would always recognize the true king of Britain, and she...

Seeing that Arturia wasn't even looking at the sword, Saber got to her feet and walked two steps away, turning her back to the woman.

"I cannot take it. It is yours."

"But I gave up the right," she said even as she pulled the swor dback toward her like it was a precious thing. And for her, it was. She had given up everything, the only things left she could call her own being this sword and this ridiculous dress. Even the trunk at the foot of her bed had been completely empty and, she had a feeling, would always remain so.

Arturia dismissed her sword, the fear in her heart receding. Even if this version of herself could hold it, she refused, claimed the sword belonged to her. Somehow, that softened her to her other self. She'd feared she would be like Morganna, but the simple fact she didn't simply snatch the sword out of her hand to prove something told her far more about this woman's character than the corruption she bore did.

"But I thank you, and I apologize for my mistake earlier."

"And when the Holy Grail is mine, I will do the same," Saber pointed out, still not turning around.

So, this Arturia had won the Holy Grail. Which War had it been in? Had Kiritsugu not betrayed her in the Fourth or had Shirou proved to be a competent enough Master in the Fifth? A different possibility crept into her mind then, one that turned her stomach for a moment. The white dress... the way she wore her hair... the sorrow and such femininity... Had this Arturia accepted Gilgamesh's proposal?

If that was the case, it would come out sooner or later. And if it did, Saber would have to-- Actually, she didn't know what she would do if that was true. She couldn't believe her own self, in any timeline, in any life, would have accepted that man's advances, wanting to possess her just to enjoy watching her suffer.

Turning around, Saber's armor dissipated. "You have paid for that mistake in blood. Let it be in the past."

Very well. The mistake would be in the past, but suddenly it seemed desperately important to keep this version of herself from obtaining the Grail. There was only one conclusion she could come up with regarding the Grail from this version of herself's world if she was corrupted so. If some version of Camelot could be saved, if she could save something, it would be worth it, would it not?

"If so, are you prepared to be stuck in this?" she said, letting some disdain slip into her voice as she held out her skirt in a clenched fist. Complaining about it distracted her, gave her time to think on how to warn her other self about what would happen if she wished upon a corrupted Grail.

"Perhaps by giving up my own legend the world saw fit that I become a parody of myself. I was not kidding when I said this is all I have to wear." Even a more modern dress would have been better than this frilly monstrosity. When she got the chance she was going to find more appropriate clothing to wear besides this or that awful white body suit she'd awoken in.

"Then you phrased your wish poorly," Saber decided.

Even if they were the same person, if this Arturia had stuck to the original reason for that wish, Saber's reasons had changed. She had changed. She didn't care what she wore afterward as long as she was free of the anachronistic fetters.

"And stay here. I shall return in a few minutes. Do not make me hunt you down." And with that, Saber left the room, heading for her own. She would return shortly with a bundle in her hand.

It didn't help she couldn't remember the exact phrasing of her wish. She'd been in shock at the time and Saber's statement of wording her wish poorly made her heart clench. Yes, she knew Camelot's destruction was her own fault, that she no longer deserved to be king if she ultimately destroyed her own country by her hand. If this Saber knew this and knew of the Grail's corruption then, perhaps, she was already thinking ahead for such a possibility.

It was then she decided, at the very least, regardless of how little her other self would think of her, she would tell her what had happened so as to avoid her fate. Ridiculous dresses were the least of her worries: ensuring Camelot's safety would always come first.

"What is that?" she asked, now sitting atop her trunk when her other self returned, glancing at the bundle. What could she possibly wish to show her?

Drawing next to her other self, Saber set a familiar set of clothes into her lap. She, herself, would never don them again. They ill-suited her and, well, she wasn't fond of her time with Shirou as her Master.

Aside from meal times, that was.

"Something else for you to wear. Keep them if you wish." Saber sat down on the bed again. She gave a light snort. "So much for keeping my identity secret here."

She stared at the clothes with her mouth hanging open, the clothes that had originally been a gift from Rin, that she'd worn through the Fifth Grail War. Arturia let a small smile cross her lips, let some fondness come

Yes, even if corrupted, she knew this other self was still her deep down in there if she was willing to protect some semblance of pride.

"Thank you," she said and, not being ashamed of her body at all, dismissed that ridiculous dress, stood, and began to remove the body suit this place had put her in. At least she could start feeling like herself again in some form.

The entire time she changed she continued talking:

"At least you have an identity to protect. I've been at a loss of what to even call myself. I was not brought here as a Servant so 'Saber' does not fit and I have no right to 'Pendragon' any longer. It's maddening."

Even though it was another version of herself and a body she knew well, it was not her, so Saber averted her eyes out of respect as Arturia changed.

"Then you are simply Arturia." She then smirked and looked back over at Arturia once she knew the woman was decent enough. "Or Wart."

"Then should I tell everyone to call you Wart, too?" she mocked as she sat down and took her hair out of the tail before working on putting it back into a bun like Saber's own. If there was one memory of her childhood that stuck in her mind, it was how angry she got whenever Kay would call her that. How she let him get away with it even after she became King was still a mystery to her.

"But there is another matter I should tell you of, if you haven't figured it out for yourself. It isn't right to keep it from you if you have not." If this other self truly intended to save Camelot as well.

Edited 2013-01-11 19:35 (UTC)

"No. Unlike you, I am still King and Kay is not here anymore, rest his soul." Saber didn't even realize she'd just implied to Arturia that their foster brother had indeed been in the Tower. After weeks of hallucinating his presence and that of others, such as Merlin, she sometimes forgot they hadn't been real.

"Though I may call you Wart." She then shrugged. "What is there to tell? That worthless former master of mine and you managed to win the Holy Grail. You were granted your wish to redo the Selection of the Sword and someone better suited to be King drew Caliburn from the stone. You, in turn, had to hold up your end of the deal with the World and served as its sword."

She raised and eyebrow. "Am I correct?"

Which just would have added to the series of near-heart attacks and made her mouth go into a grimmer line. Kay had been here? Or some version of him from another universe. It did not sit well with her at all, but she had to press onward.

She averted her eyes from her other self. This would never be something she could admit to anyone while looking them in the face, no matter what. And if this other self was calling Shirou 'worthless' it was safe to say her heart had not softened towards him as her had, and she had not betrayed him when tempted with the Grail as she herself had.

"In part. What I did not know and you surely do, is the Grail is corrupted. Tell me, what do you think would happen to Camelot if a wish was made upon something brimming with said corruption, waiting to be unleashed on the world?"

When Arturia mentioned that Saber knew the grail was corrupted, the knight's fingertips strayed to the scrawling red lines on her neck and along her jaw. Oh, yes, she knew exactly how corrupt the Holy Grail was. Saber could already tell from the question asked of her that this version of herself would not agree with the altered reason she had for her wish. Nor could she honestly answer that she did not care what happened to Camelot.

Snorting a little, Saber laid back on the bed, and propped one leg up on a bent knee, hands laced behind her neck. "It would change as the wish dictated. That is the power of wishing for the impossible - it changes things that should not be possible to change like the past and the legends humanity knows and pathetically aspires toward."

Arturia almost felt bad about bringing up the corruption when Saber's hands strayed to the lines on her neck. Almost. Then she sprawled herself on Arturia's bed as if she had not a care in the world and Arturia wondered, corrupted as she was, if Saber cared about Camelot at all anymore if she was being this nonchalant about it.

She kept herself from rolling her eyes at her double as she worked the braid and ribbon into her bun. It provided enough distraction that it made talking about it easier. If this double proved to not care about Camelot at all then....

Well, she had no idea what she'd do about it.

"Then think for a moment about how a wish to redo the Drawing of the Sword would turn out? I asked for someone better in my place. How do you think the Grail would react to that corrupted as it is?"

Is her alternate self playing dumb or would she be forced to spell it out?

Saber was only partially playing dumb, the rest was... something else.

"How it turned out purely depends on the exact wording of the wish and the desire felt in the heart at the time of the wish. Magic always comes with a price. I know there were times when Merlin's teachings went in one ear and out the other as magecraft was not the way of a king, but it still lingered in the mind."

She didn't look up when she asked the question her other self was leading Saber toward but probably didn't want to actually be asked. "You destroyed it, did you not?"

Arturia couldn't look at her. Yes, she knew that. She knew it depended on the wish in her heart, she knew it depended on the wording, she knew it came with a price. She knew all this. She'd gone into her deal knowing exactly what would lay before her after she attained the Grail and yet....

Ribbon firmly in place her hands settled on her lap and she only looked there. A soft "yes" leaving her in a small voice that didn't sound like her own. Of course this other self would know how to cut to the heart of the matter. They were two sides of the same coin in a sense.

Still, what she said nagged at her. She was certain she wished for the Choosing of the King to be redone. Yes, her heart had been in turmoil, but was it possible that if she hadn't killed Shirou, would Camelot still have existed in some form?

That just made her feel even more sick to her stomach. Was her betrayal of Shirou the very thing that ultimately sealed Camelot's fate? Was her confusion over her feelings for him what had damned her kingdom?

If so, she could never let that happen again. Ever. Not if it would only end in disaster like it had. Arturia had no right to it.

After a long moment, Saber pushed herself up so she could look at her other self.

"You need to understand that while we are the same, we are also very different. I once walked the path you did, suffering betrayal after betrayal, failure after failure. And then when I had lost again, failed again, I was given a choice," she explained. "And instead of fading away to await the next time I was summoned, the next turn of the cycle, I made the decision to take another path and still fight."

She finally understood what being a hero had been. Just like she still understood what it was to be a king. "Wart, I ask you: did you forget the words Merlin spoke to you before you approached the Stone, about what a king was?"

Her shoulders twitched at being called Wart. If the conversation wasn't meant to be so serious she would've snapped at her other self for calling her that. Except she had a point.

"No, I have not."

But she had forgotten, she realized. Not the words themselves, or drawing Caliburn, but she'd allowed herself to go against them. Why else would she have welcomed Shirou's embrace if she hadn't? Why else would she have found herself longing for the warmth he offered to her? Before then, being King had been enough and she'd accepted the loneliness as part of the duty she took up. She was no longer human.

More and more it hit her just how much she had failed at being King. Not even in death could she remain as one.

It also begged the question of just how many Grail Wars this other self had been through. Her other self--'Saber,' she decided, was right. They were two different people. Expecting them to be exactly alike would have been like expecting her and Mordred to be the same and Arturia certainly never had Mordred's mouth.

"That's why you embraced the corruption, then?"

Saber sat up even more, bracing her arms on her knees. She focused her gaze on the trim of her skirt.

"A king is one who kills everyone to save everyone. A king is no longer human. A king cannot rule with human emotion," Saber recited quietly. "And the duty of a hero is to be hated. Ostracized. Just as a King. And when I all the corruption was before me - All the World's Evil - I willingly took it in and embraced it. Endured it and still do."

She looked to her hands, flexing her fingers. "It was my obligation to do so. I had lived such a foolish dream and finally, finally I could wake and face the reality I had ignored for so long." Saber raised her eyes to meet those of her other self.

"So many lost their lives because of me, that I owe a blood debt that I will never be able to repay. And that is true despair. So this is my penance."

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