“Magnificent.”
He can only let out one word alongside a mirthful smile. To watch her fight and overcome odds that should be insurmountable as if they were nothing, his sentiments about all of this spectacle are rounded up better by no other word.
The regular human eye would never have understood what had just occurred; it would've all been mere blurs and explosions that made no sense physically or logically, but luckily, the Magus of Flowers, Merlin, is quite a lot more than your average human.
The rock monster raises its fist, ready to deliver a punch that would crush an adult bull to mush, its velocity so fast that as it is launched, the barrier of sound is broken -- yet the petite frame of the girl leaps with ease to the side, out of harm's way, reacting at the very moment the attack is executed.
One would think that she doesn't even need to see it coming.
The roles of attacker and defender are immediately reversed as the girl now goes on the offensive. Watching her close in on her prey is like witnessing a dragon brimming with unbridled fury. Bathed in prana, she moves and strikes with strength and speed no person of her physique, or simply, no human being should be able to output.
The girl needs only one thrust to pierce through the golem's thick, craggy exterior as if it was paper, goring it through both arms and its chest; a testimony not only of Rhongomyniad’s strength, but of the immense force the girl can manifest. Yet force is not the only feat that she proves here – there is no excess in the execution, meaning that the very moment she is done piercing, the girl can slip her weapon out of the monster's body as if it wasn't there in the first place. With inhuman technique and reflexes, she pulls Rhongomyniad as fast as she plunges it into the magical automaton. The process repeats over and over again, creating an endless barrage of thrusts that pulverizes the golem within an instant.
The golem falls to the ground, dissolving in a heap of dust like its two other brethren that had been defeated just seconds before.
The girl breathes and exhales deeply as she slowly shifts from her battle stance into a non-combative one, bringing the lance to rest by standing it perpendicular to the ground. After having witnessed her effortless and deft handling of that massive weapon, originally held by the mighty Uther Pendragon, the sight of her own weapon dwarfing her is all the more absurd.
Merlin claps his hands like a giddy child. “Very good, little Arturia!” he exclaims with excitement as he approaches the blonde-haired girl. She turns her head to look at him, and even though she has the appearance of a little girl, Merlin is well aware that her verdant-blue eyes hold the gaze of something much more mature and... grandiose; it is the same glow as the one in Uther's chosen son.
Merlin can easily tell that like the latter too, she has this consistent glimmer of doubt at the corner of her eye whenever she faces him. Here however, Arturia appears more amused than anything else.
“It would appear that you have underestimated my growth, Merlin.”
She isn't boasting. Any other person would have said these words and naturally exuberated arrogance and pride, but Arturia is different. No matter the way she says it, this sounds more like a complaint than anything else, as if Merlin is being reprimanded for not having gauged her growth properly.
She has always been above the idea of petty vanity since the age of five, and that character of hers has fascinated him most ever since.
“Indeed, you exceed all of my expectations. But then, we are both aware that your case is a little bit like cheating, isn't it?”
He raises a point that makes her uncomfortable, but seeing that unsure visage of hers it something that he loves most, he always has loved. As her little mouth curves alongside her contracted cheeks, and her eyebrows move synchronously with her eyes to draw a light frown... he can do nothing but love her even more.
Love is, after all, everything he stands for, and everything is truly what he loves.
“Do elaborate?” she asks, adjusting the ribbon that held up her regally made hair, holding it in a bun.
“Your soul does not belong here. It is a providence of Fate, a miracle of the Third. You see the days of another life, a similar yet different time. You are of this world, and still, you are the most alien to it.”
He flashes her a knowing smile. In the end, even if she knows more than he does because of her peculiar condition, one can only be played by the Magus of Flowers, the opposite is, and will always remain impossible.
“... so you've noticed?”
He does not answer her. All he has to give a response is a widened grin, for she will naturally understand. If she really is what he thinks her to be, there is no other outcome other than her comprehension, for she knows both what he has done and what he will eventually do.
Merlin was expecting her to show at least some form of subdued dissatisfaction, but her response is something he finds most unprecedented, yet lovely to the core: a returned knowing smile, the very same thing he gave her.
“Then I trust that there isn't much I can do but keep an eye on you,” she says with an air that he could tell from a mile away feigns innocence. Wherever she is laughing at herself or at him, he cannot really tell.
But it is irrelevant. He too laughs, filled with joy at her jest.
“Unfortunately for you, that is all you can do for this romantic here.”
Punctuating his speech with a playful child's wink, Merlin suddenly wraps his cape around Arturia, chanting a couple of words which escape the boundaries of humanity’s grasp on language.
She does not react to this abrupt move, instead taking it in stride. That is because she is already accustomed to such antics, having already experienced his characteristic mischievous personality in previous meetings.
Vast magical energies surround them, warping the space around. Dancing and flowing like water, prana ripples across the fabric of reality, till all that they can see is nothing more than rainbow-colored lights expanding to the very limits of the horizon and heaven.
“So where are we going this time? I assume that you haven’t summoned me to this castle in the middle of nowhere for nothing.”
“To visit a certain Sir Kay and his squire. Good friends, you three will make good friends. Loving friends!”
Prologue - Part 2
Watching her sleep against a tree has a charm of its own. It reminds the young man that whatever he was told to think of her, reality remains unchangeable no matter what humans will -- Arturia is in the end nothing more than a girl.
And quite the beautiful one, that daughter of a villager is. If at this young age she is already such a looker, what she would transform into as time matures her into an adult… he can only realize that it would be something most frightening, due to its implications.
Gender and beauty can be concealed and denied only for so long.
“Arthur?” she calls out to him dreamily.
Her eyes do not open, but her mouth moves to carry her voice. She does not need to see him to know that he is here, kneeling by her side. It is most natural, for they can reciprocally identify each other without even having to rely on human senses. Their bond is one that surpasses the limits of the natural, it is something beyond the understanding of the average man.
“My Lady, sleeping alone in such a place is dangerous. Who knows what vile plan ruffians might enact to snatch you away.”
She chuckles at his preposterous claim. Generally he would receive a frown and some sort of reprimand for addressing her as a girl, but perhaps that in the case here, the good sleep had provided Arturia with a lighter mood.
“Indeed, it would be dangerous, for these ruffians; like this one here in front of me.”
Lifting her hand, she gives a light push on Arthur's forehead, as to create some more space between them, knowing that his visage was rather close to her own.
“Oh my, since when did you grow a sense of humor?” he jests.
Arturia's answer is to open her eyes, the very same eyes that had captivated Arthur ever since he first gazed into them. Looking upon the verdant-blue irises, he can only feel like he is observing a smooth reflection of what he yearns for. What it is exactly that they reflect, Arthur could never tell, but he knows that far more than just his literal image is contained in these jewel-like orbs.
“I would like to think that I've always had one,” she replies dryly.
Arturia dusts off the dead leaves and grass that had latched onto her clothes. As she stands up, the watching Arthur spares no time in picking up Rhongomyniad, stealing it right under her fingers as Arturia reaches out for her weapon.
He smiles smugly at his accomplishment.
“Then allow me to indulge in it a little longer. Having you be something different than my faithful squire day and night would prove most delightful.”
He presents to Arturia her spear like a squire would to their knight. A reversal of their true, actual roles, something that Arthur enjoys doing most. Part of his love to tease her so much is because of his natural affinity towards japing others, but the other, more important portion of his purpose, is that he always is curious to see if he can embarrass such a wonderful fair maiden, something that he feels he has yet to achieve. In fact, as far as he’s aware, no one has yet managed accomplish such a wonder. That girl is like a flower that cannot be blemished; in her total disregard of her gender she appears more precious, more special than any other woman Arthur has ever met… eventually reaching a certain point where every time she does her utmost to be boyish or ignore what she truly is, he feels this odd irritation tugging away at his heart.
But no matter what he feels, that is all her choice. It isn't imposed on her by others, she herself seeks to mask away the truth and bear the consequences of such an act. Everytime she looks at him, he is reminded of her free choice.
That is why all he can do is respect her.
Truly, at his very core, he is a gentleman to the end.
She sighs and accepts her weapon, taking it from his hands, not uttering a word. Her eyes lock onto his momentarily, and he recognizes a glimmer of strange gratitude mixed with sorrow. She does not dwell long though, and before he can read more into her, Arturia turns around and walks away towards Sir Ector's castle.
“Let us go meet up with Sir Kay,” she urges him, walking away with her back turned. Her voice does not suggest that the matter is pressing, but her gait does not have any trace of sloth or unhurried nature.
No-nonsense, straight to the point, and always being the most efficient, the trinity of her personality is at times so blunt that one might feel offended and looked down upon if they misunderstand her character.
The sight of her walking off, with the clanging of her armor being like the toll of church bells in the distance… as he is privy to such an exquisite portrait, bathed by Brittain’s setting sun and beautified by the British hills, forests and fields, Arthur can only whisper his complaint to the wind before following her footsteps, like he has always been doing from the very moment they first met:
“What a cruel woman.”
Prologue - Part 3
‘Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone is rightwise King of England.’
I did not need to read the inscription to know what was written on this sword.
Long before we approached it, long before Merlin appeared to Arthur to warn him of the consequences of the act he was about to undertake... I had already figured out what would happen on this day, because in another time, on this very same day, I should be the one fulfilling the prophecy engraved on the ‘Sword of Assured Victory’.
The tale of the King of Knights is, or to be closer to this world’s version of the truth, was my very own life.
Raised by a loving villager instead of Sir Ector, farming through my early childhood instead of being trained and guided as a squire by Sir Kay, and taken away by Merlin to receive Rhongomyniad, finally meeting young Arthur not too long afterwards… what else did I need to comprehend the ridiculous joke the Grail had played on me?
That was, if having the conscience of an adult already at the age of five was not enough of a hint.
As I ponder all of this this while watching this young man step up to the stone with such righteous, chivalric stride -- I can only see it as a recollection of the past, only with different actors playing the scene.
Even if I have overcome the remorse, I cannot forget about what I first did as a King; the suffering I put my dearest subjects and people through as they endured my folly, my foolish choice to rule all alone at the top.
Once I had a conviction for that sin, but when it comes to the present...
...the answer that I have to its true nature, is something that I am most uncertain of now.
Still what I am certain of, is that I can trust Arthur to fare much better in these matters than I ever did. His mind is clearer, his purpose, shaped and moulded with far more detail than what guided Arturia, than what guided me -- the ideals of a little, naive and idealistic girl. Even if he isn’t as disciplined as I am at times, I do not doubt his courage, his discernment and his ability with the sword. He is my equal in all these fields, perhaps even better in certain particular cases. He will at the very least, be able to achieve a rule very similar to mine.
The key difference between him and me, however, is that he is a man of the world, one that can relate and talk to others and make them hear what they want.
While honest, he is not the fool that I once was, perhaps, the fool that I am still.
But if I believe all of this… why am I standing here shadowing him then?
That too I do not truly understand, but perhaps that the answer can simply be found in my character: even if I am not King anymore, I cannot escape the duties of Knighthood.
Like how Arthur now cannot escape from the destiny of becoming King.
He steps forwards and does not look at anything else but the sword. He is determined, just as I was. He is ready, just as I was. Without hesitation, he removes it in one smooth go, freeing Caliburn from its stone prison.
In one motion, he proves that he is worthy King of Britain.
All around, the crowd can only watch in shock, or grimace in frustration and jealousy. While a little commotion can be heard here and there, the entire atmosphere can be summed up to being a sea of murmuring silence, the kind which spreads gossip like a disease.
That will not stand. I shall not let such a glorious moment be tarnished.
I clap my hands and smile the warmest smile I could ever smile. Something takes hold of me, perhaps joy, perhaps zeal and fervor, perhaps utter pure relief... or perhaps just all of it.
I shout with abandon, raising my lance to the sky:
“All hail King Arthur!”
And the crowd rallies behind, the chants begin, like a line of dominoes toppling full circle before standing up again and repeating; like a storm raging on, till that one sentence of praise and admiration is all that can be heard, sung endlessly by the all the true Britons standing around Arthur, the Future King.
“All hail King Arthur!”
He looks around him as all shout out his name and his new title in utmost reverence. He smiles, he smiles like a king. There is no uncertainty, no hesitation. Pride does not pour out from him like an arrogant man’s torrent, it comes at just the right dose, tempered with humility: neither underwhelming nor disgustingly overwhelming.
It is a king’s smile, a majestic smile that conveys gratitude, thanks and blessings to those that have acknowledged the worthy ruler.
It only spurs the crowd to chant on, one last time, with more conviction than ever:
“All hail King Arthur!”
I never knew how happy I would be to hear that phrase uttered by the people.
I never imagined that the feeling that’d well up in my chest at hearing these praises, would be relief.
Yes, I never… knew that… the weight of it all, gone, would free me so much.
Never… even… why are my eyes...
Ahh. That is so unknightly of me...
---
“I shall devote my soul
As a steadfast pillar
Holding your Kingdom whole
Defending it with fervour.
I shall be your shadow
Hidden in their plain sight
No matter where you go
Ever ready to fight.”
|
Chapter 1 >>>
Fate/Stay Night : Past and Future Kings
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by Arashi_Leonhart
