I wasn't able to start my Halloween fic in time, but I'm damn sure gonna go through with my Christmas fic. Hopefully I can finish every chapter before Christmas. This is sorta-kinda an alternate universe thing, so try to keep that in mind as you read
Twelve Nights of Fate
I
On the First Night of Christmas, Fate Gave to Me... A Little Elf and His Naïve, Little Dreams Pt. 1
Given his own circumstances, you could forgive this child for being so obstinate in the face of Mother Nature's cold, staunch attitude.
A fool without equivocation and without a compass – both in the figurative and literal sense – he slogged his way through the heart of this mild blizzard. As if the foot of snow beneath him was swallowing the lower half of his legs like quicksand, the boy tried to hike his legs up as high as he could with each step. A foolish waste of energy, yes, but as you may have already noticed, "foolish" was the quintessential definition of this little elf and mission. Fair though it may have been to mistake this elf for a soldier performing his own death march, in truth he was only a guileless boy with a hardhead, trying his hardest to reach a goal so tall in his mind, surmounting it might just require him to climb over the clouds.
Acknowledging this, Shirou Elfya was still too stubborn to even consider turning back. The little elf was just a bit too tenacious for his own good.
"I can still make it…" he murmured in an accent much huskier than typical of him. "Just another mile or three, and I'll definitely make it there…"
The only thing louder to him than the chilly wind whistling at his ears was his chattering teeth. He thought he might just lose them before arriving at his destination, but why worry about details so miniscule? A few teeth, some frostbitten limbs, perhaps one of his pointy ears or even both of them; if Shirou could find what he was looking for and make it back before Christmas, it would all be worth it.
Thus, he kept marching right along, like the pint-sized soldier he was trying his best to be.
"I can…still…make it…" he murmured again, closing his eyes while he kept walking with only half his consciousness intact.
He only needed to cover a bit more ground. Just a bit more and he would find that place. Just a bit more and his three month long trip will have all been worth it. Just a bit more and he'll be able to make Illya smile again come Christmas time.
"I… I can…"
And so went the last of his coal, finally burnt to cinders in that small furnace he called a body.
That little elf had stopped in his tracks, shivering from the cold gnawing at his bones as though piranhas swam on its currents. His legs were paradoxically both numb and sore, unable to remove themselves from the snow again. The furred cloak that Shirou's father had given him, and that Shirou himself had put so much faith in, could carry him no further through this harsh cold. This was his stop.
He only had a bit of energy left, some leftover refuse from all that coal he had burned so fervidly before; and all it was useful for was opening his eyelids one last time. Thus, Shirou's frosted lashes rose, and when he took in what was laying out in front of him, they rose a bit higher still.
It was still far off in the distance, another few miles at the very least, but he could see it. The little elf could even reach his worryingly pale hand out and pinch it between his thumb and index. It was right there. Saint Camelot was straight ahead of him. The castle looked even more beautiful than it had in the books. Even from this distance, the magic Shirou felt gathering in the pits of his stomach was greater than any feeling he had gotten from his father's stories.
The little elf had honestly truly made it; and with his heart so full and his head so high, he bid his consciousness farewell. Shirou's face hit the snow as though it was a pillow. Fittingly, the blizzard provided him with a sheet of snow to sleep under. But from the grin on his face, you would be forgiven for thinking he had just been kissed and tucked in by his mother. Yes, the cold would take him while he slept, but again, why worry about details so miniscule? Tonight was a good night; a proud night. At least, the boy snoozing away in the snow thought so.
The figure whose shadow loomed over him less than ten minutes later didn't share his enthusiasm. To be quite honest, he was fairly perplexed. Not enough to pick the boy up, of course. Bringing a random child inside of Camelot's wall? That would madness. One can't just scoop up orphans like they're strays, and this was most definitely a stray. The knight, who had memorized every face that lived inside the castle, could tell as much.
"…I'm dawdling. If I waste any more time, I'll risk upsetting His Highness."
The knight spoke briskly under his breath and then continued along his way. He had every intention of leaving that child to the cold, but his eyes, so sharp they were almost like a curse in times like this, caught a glimpse of something peculiar: One of the boy's ears had slipped out from underneath his hood. It was long, it was pointed, and it had lost most of its color.
"This boy… He's an elf?" the knight mumbled to himself.
And so, plans changed. What was once a stray that the knight was very much comfortable on leaving to freeze to death, had now become an asset. Doing exactly what he previously advised himself not to do, he scooped up the boy and tossed him over his shoulder before making sure to cover him with his furs.
To think that Agravain was, only a moment ago, about to return to Saint Camelot empty-handed – he would've thanked God for this Christmas miracle if he earnestly thought miracles could ever exist.
It was an odd dynamic: Despite being the older sibling, it was Illyasviel who always turned out to be the tattletale. Sometimes Shirou was convinced that she lived and breathed for it.
*✲*✲*✲*
It was never major affairs that she told. Those incidents, especially the ones involving any of Kiritsugu's tools being compromised stayed snugly sealed in Illya's throat; likely, because she was the main perpetrator of practically all of them. No, it was the small things Illya ran to their parents to snitch about.
How small or serious that night's truth varied greatly depending between ages.
"Mama! Mama! You won't believe what Shirou said!" Illya exclaimed while bursting into her mother and father's room.
Iri looked up from the clothes she was folding. Like always, she shut her eyes and tilted her head ever so slightly, feigning mild curiosity.
"Oh? What did Shirou do this time, Illya?" she asked for the several dozenth time that month.
The elf in question, visibly less hyped-up than his round-eared sister, arrived in the room as well.
"It's nothing," he said.
"It's something. Something horrible. It's the worst something you've ever said, Shirou!" Illya snapped, poking a very accusatory finger. "Mama, Shirou says he doesn't believe in Santa!"
Iri suddenly tilt her head the other way. Shirou had noticed that the legitimacy of his adoptive mother's curiosity pended on which way her head leaned.
"Shirou, you don't believe in a Santa? What are you going to do come Christmas season?" she asked.
"It's not that I don't believe in 'a' Santa. I know those exist. I just don't believe in 'the' Santa."
"'The' Santa?"
"! Come on, Mama…" Illya said, pumping while pumping her tiny fists. "He's the first, the most important, and the only real Santa out of all those phony ones. There wouldn't even be a Christmas without him!"Old Saint NickSanta Claus
"What about all the other Santas, then? The ones who take up the Santa mantle come Christmas time?" Shirou asked her. "How come everyone but the 'real' Santa does everyone expects Santa to do, huh?"
Illya pouted. She also scowled. Somehow, she had mastered a technique that allowed her to perform both at the same time, and with often impressive results. She and Shirou shared pouty glares while Irisviel did her best to play lone sheriff of the house while her husband was away.
Both tiny heads got a big hand placed on them. "Settle down, you two. You wouldn't want your father to come back and find you bickering, would you?"
"Hmph!" Illya folded her arms in protest. "Kiritsugu'll just take Shirou's side like he always does. That's why Shirou's always acting bratty, 'cause he gets spoiled him so much."
Illyasviel was the most adorable and blackest little pot Iri had ever seen. Kiritsugu spoiled both of his kids, almost to a worrying degree. While his wife understood where this plethora of affection came from, it did make times like this, where proper remedial discipline would have been welcome, a bit harder than they should be.
"Hey, Iri, you don't believe in Santa Claus, do you?" Shirou asked her.
"Well… With as many Santas as there are flying through the clouds during Christmas season, one of them has to be the genuine Mr. Claus, don't they?"
From the way the little elf looked at her, Iri knew he was unimpressed with that answer. She sighed, and began combing his ginger hair.
"Oh, Shirou… Why do you always have to be so stubborn about everything? That's what troublesome adults like your father do. You should be taking things easier at this age – living life more fancifully – like Illya. Maybe you should learn from her example?"
The pompous elder sister puffed out her chest. Consecutively unimpressed, Shirou turned and left.
"H-hey! Shirou, don't ignore me! Being a rebellious little brother will get you put on Santa's Naughty List!"
Shirou snorted as he left. "As if any Santa would put me on a Naughty List for such a dumb reason."
Huffing up her cheeks to the point where Iri was sure she was going to blow the house down when she blew, Illyasviel scampered after Shirou, likely continuing to nag at him. Without a doubt, she would back to tell her mother about whatever new "terrible crime" her elven brother had committed. Until then, Iri would hum to herself and finish folding the clothes in front of her.
Who knows, maybe she would even get to chance to start at another chore before they returned.
*✲*✲*✲*"Mhmm… Illya… Leave me alone…"
Finally returning from its lengthy vacation, Shirou's consciousness roused the boy up from his nostalgia-drenched dreams. It took a brief while after sitting up in a bed for Shirou to realize he was sitting in a bed.
"Where am I?" he spoke in bewilderment, his eyes now zipping about the room.
The interior architecture of wherever this was was alien to him. If he didn't know any better, the little elf would guess he was in castle. Granted, it was much more modernly carpentered than anything he would expected from a medieval took a brief while pondering the particulars of this castle for the little elf to realize he was pondering the particulars of a castle. A very jolly one, judging from the colors and decorations on the windows. Even the sheets covering him wore stripes of red and green.
A legitimate castle – Shirou had honestly woken up inside of one. But then another realization came. Shirou was missing Kiritsugu's cloak and his travelling clothes. And then another switch flipped, and Shirou's cheeks began to bake. It had taken a long while of being nude underneath the sheets for the little elf to realize that he was nude underneath the sheets. Undergarments and all, he was 100% au naturel.
"W-who took my clothes!" he shouted, wrapping all of himself up tightly in the silky, merryfull bed sheets.
"So, you've finally woken up? You took well enough time to."
That voice, colder than any other Shirou had ever heard, was followed by the only door in the room creaking open.
Shirou had always been told that his father was an intimidating man with eyes that looked straight through the person in front of him, but Kiritsugu had never given his son that impression; perhaps because he threw soft smiles at his children much too often. But this man, this man – dressed in black armor from his shoulders down to his toes, this man – wearing what seemed to be a permanently stern gaunt across his face, this man – with eyes that could make a lion take step or seven back; he was intimidating. Without even meaning to, he gave off an ambience just oppressive enough that it wouldn't force someone to flee from a fight, but it certainly keep them from starting one.
At least, it seemed to work that way with young elves.
"…Are you the guy who took my clothes?" Shirou asked in a guarded tone.
"Yes. I am also the person who saved your life two days ago, so try not to hold that against me. I've little time for squabbling with children."
"It's not a squabble! I just don't like waking up when nothing covering—" It took Shirou no time at all to latch on to the crucial detail the man in black armor had leisurely shared. "Two days ago? I've been asleep here for two days...?"
"Yes. Now stay calm, boy. You've been provided more than adequate care during that time. Proper nutrients, the bed in which you're currently sitting, a bath—"
"Bath? …Somebody was rubbing up my body while I was asleep?"
The stranger sighed.
"Please, I know you're at that age where a boy's mind begins to conjure…unscrupulous ideas, but do try to keep Saint Camelot's nurses out of your pubescent fetishes."
And so flipped another switch, and this one came with healthy jog to Shirou's memories.
Saint Camelot – the home of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, and a place only accessible during the Christmas season, when the Star of Bethlehem would rise and use its limitless jovialness to conjure legendary souls who played the role of Santa into the world. The castle was the last thing Shirou remembered seeing before passing out in the snow.
Finally fitting all the pieces together, Shirou came to fully realize where it was he spending the last two days.
"I'm in Saint Camelot?" he asked while gripping the silk sheets so tightly, the stranger watching him feared he would permanently wrinkle them. "I really made it…?!"
The man in black armor sighed again. There wasn't enough time in the night for this boy to be eating away at it with him undeserved jovialness. The tassets at the hips of his armor straddled against the rest of the set, scratching it, as he walked to an ornate chest on the opposite side of the room. He dug around inside it for a moment before tossing what was inside onto to Shirou's sheets.
"Are these new clothes?" he asked, unfolding them.
"A new uniform. You'll want to wear it before leaving this room."
"But these aren't my clothes."
"Those were thrown away. Just wear what you're given and be done with it, boy."
"You threw away Kiritsugu's cloak?!" The little elf leapt from his sheets, too riled to be concerned about his decency. "That was the last thing he gave to me! If you don't give it back, I swear I'll-"
"What will you do exactly? Please, say it clearly so I can record in the court memoir. It's not every day I get threatened face to face by a child."
Shirou managed to bite back his words before something not so jovial left his mouth. As reserved as he could possibly sound, he said "...I just want my dad's cloak back."
The stranger adjusted his cape. "Very well. Do as you're told and I'll allow order nurse who took your cloak to stitch up its tears to return it to you."
Shirou blinked. "A nurse took it? You said it'd been thrown away!"
"I lied. Stay obedient and I'll refrain from doing so. For tonight, at least." With that, he strode back to the door. "Also, my name is not 'you'. I am Sir Agravain — secretary of the Round Table. ...Typically. During this Christmas season, I am the chief supervisor of Saint Camelot's functions, reporting directly to Santa Alter."
"…Alter? What's that about?" Shirou asked.
"Take a step out of this room and maybe then you'll find out. Of course, as I said before, you'll want to wear that uniform I gave you. …Or, preferably, anything at all."
The little elf finally regained his modesty just in time for Agravain to make his exit, covering himself. Left alone with nothing but his shame and his new clothes, Shirou had no choice but to try on the uniform Agravain gave him.
Such strange colors it was woven with. Yes, there was the red and white you would expect, but there was no green to be found; not even on the shoes Agravain had set at the foot of the ornate chest. If this room was following a Christmas theme, just how was it supposed to be complete without, at least, a smidgen of green for Shirou to wear? Instead of green, the costume seemed to prefer blue. In fact, blue was the most prominent color used by far. Whoever made it had to have been infatuated with it.
"…Whatever," he shrugged while preparing to get dressed.
But then he realized it – underwear. He had none; and the pair he had been travelling in, as well as whatever extras he had brought with him, were all but gone. The elf grumbled in flustered frustration at the thought of one of those female nurses stripping him. His eyes darted around the room until that ornate chest shackled their gaze to it. Shirou stared at it, wondering…
Will I really find any…? he thought to himself before traipsing over to it.
He really found them – briefs. They were just his size too, as well as the only green piece of clothing he now possessed.
Such a strange costume.After dressing himself, Shirou finally left the room for the first time in (what he still had a hard time believing was) two days. But, of course, that sour-faced knight from earlier was waiting outside for him like a hawk on the hunt, waiting for the naïve hedge mouse to pop out of his hole.
*✲*✲*✲*
"Do they fit well?" he asked.
Shirou nodded. Thus, concluded the conversation.
Agravain went ahead, gesturing for the boy to follow. When Shirou asked where he was going, the response he received could be summed up as "…".
Agravain treated the boy as though he was his hostage. In actuality, this was just how he was with everyone, though Shirou didn't know this, thus nothing about the knight was clear to him.
One thing was clear to the elf while he and the knight trekked through the castle's halls was that this castle was as jolly as it was grandiose. For every priceless piece of artwork suspending from the walls, there was a piece of war paraphernalia which varied from 'retired military regalia', to 'priceless artifact only meant to be used for ceremonies or to look very pretty', to 'retired military regalia that, over time, has amassed a great enough legend to be just as priceless as one of those pretty and priceless ceremonial artifacts'. During this little tour, the little elf kept his little mitts to himself, of course. He did not wanting to draw out Agravain's bad side; or at least not make the side he was already seeing any worse.
"Listen, boy-"
"My name isn't 'boy'. It's Shirou. Shirou Elfya."
Agravain sighed. "You elves and your surnames… It's as if your lot strives to never be taken being taken seriously." In spite of his insult, he still began his next sentence with "Shirou, I'll need to be assured of something from you before we leave this wing of the castle."
"Um… sure? What is it, though?"
"Swear to me that you will not scream."
He stopped. Naturally. How was he to continue after hearing such a thing? Agravain by himself gave the impression that crossing him would result in Christmas ending early for you, and despite acknowledging this himself, he still had the gall to look annoyed at the little elf acting on his own self-preservation instincts.
"I've no time for this, Shirou. You and I are both short for time."
"What does your time crunching have to do with me screaming?"
"Well…" Agravain folded his arms. "You'll, without a doubt, find yourself fighting the urge to. I'm only giving you fair warning now. You can take my words for malintent if it so pleases you, but I'm not setting up any games at your expense. I'm far too busy. My king needs me tonight. More importantly, he needs you."
What did that mean? Shirou was about to ask, but then Agravain showed the boy his back. The little elf knew, if he asked he would just get "..." in return. So, he followed, just like a good little elf should. When they reached the wide ashen double doors which would lead them to the heart of Saint Camelot, Shirou braced himself. He planned to stand firm against whatever this gloomy secretary was planning to spur on him.
…Or so the plan was meant to go.
The moment the doors parted and Shirou saw for himself what Saint Camelot's center looked like, he understood instantly what Agravain had meant. He clamped both hands over his mouth, pursed his lips, and even bit down on his tongue, but still a squeal managed to escape his lips. It was the Christmas Spirit personified. If only Shirou could keep his inner child from overcoming the outer one, it would have been the second astounding feat he had accomplished in the last three days. But Shirou's inner child stayed fast, clawing its way closer to freedom each time Shirou so much as glanced as this wonderland of Christmas joy.
There were flashy, borderline garish, ornaments which decorated windows and doors and hung from the ceiling. There was a tree which sat in the center of the snowy courtyard outside and towered over the rest of the castle; glimmering so brightly with ornaments, Shirou feared he would go blind if he stared at it for too long. There were soldier-knights constantly walking past he and Agravain, carrying crates of toys and games very similarly to the castle's staff who did the same with stockings so bottom-heavy, the candy inside could likely feed entire villages.
"Dis is amauzin'…" he burbled while following behind Agravain, his tongue still sore from before.
"This is the true face of Saint Camelot which houses the greatest workshop in all of Western Europe; a workshop that works tirelessly, listfully, and handily for its king and it's Santa – Arthur Pendragon."
So King Arthur really was the native Santa of Saint Camelot. Shirou had always wondered, even asking Kiritsugu about it once, but his father replied with some vague answer that could have gone either way. This sealed the deal.
"Keep in mind: What you're seeing is not Saint Camelot's workshop. This is just the castle's central, where the workshop as well as every other important aspect of the castle bridges together," Agravain mentioned as he and Shirou exited into the courtyard.
"Whare d'ar we goin'?" Shirou asked.
"To meet the king. As I've already said. Do not ask such unnecessary questions again."
Again? Shirou bitterly thought. This is the first time you've even bothered to respond.
But of course, the little elf followed anyway, hustling behind the knight. He was beginning to wonder if he would be able to get what he came here for.
"Our destination is at the end of this path. Keep pace until then," Agravain ordered.
*✲*✲*✲*
It was a grove path that lead away from the west wing of the castle they were heading down. Personally, Shirou was really enjoying walking through the snow with most of it already shoveled out of his way. Although, the breeze tonight seemed especially vindictive. One current bit at the bones so deeply, even the black armored secretary himself had to wrap his furs a bit tighter than usual around himself.
Witnessing this brief of moment of humanity from him gave Shirou a silent chuckle, but then he asked aloud "Why aren't I cold too?" His clothes definitely looked thinner than Agravain's did. They were even single-layered, yet the elf felt warmer than he ever did with all of his old clothes plus Kiritsugu's cloak. Honestly, he felt a bit toasty at the moment.
Without looking back, Agravain answered "That uniform has been enchanted. It's blessed to give the wearer protection from any type of cold, as well as retain a certain temperature of heat within them. You would be fine even after being buried under an avalanche or falling through the ice of frozen lake."
"What, you're saying I'd survive drowning or suffocating to death."
"Yes. As well as never fearing the cold, you'll never have to fear suffocating or drowning while wearing those clothes."
Shirou, a bit wide-eyed patted down his new outfit. Originally, he was quite bitter about being forced to don this uniform, now he was feeling a bit unworthy of it.
As he and Agravain were nearing the end of their little journey, Shirou's eye caught sight of another thing that almost made him bite his tongue: Reindeer; two of them.
At a glance, they looked like any ordinary reindeer, but when a pair caught one of Agravain's dark looks, they got understandably startled and sprinted off. And that sprinted gradually evolved into prancing, with them getting higher and higher with until those prances became flight. They soared overhead, galloping like there was still earth underneath them to kick off of. This didn't make Shirou scream like he thought it would, but it certainly brought a wide grin to his face.
"Stop wasting time and come," Agravain said, trekking onwards.
The little elf had a brief pause, pondering on whether or not the two reindeer scampering off into the sky in fear of Agravain had struck a nerve. Probably not, but the thought still gave Shirou something to amuse himself with in the meantime. Though, it was only a few minutes later that the two met their destination at last. A stable; one bigger than his family's house back home, along with the four houses sitting beside it.
"A reindeer farm?" he asked.
"A reindeer stable," Agravain corrected.
Naturally, many more reindeer were found here. Much, much more; and unlike the duo they came across in the grove, these deer were wearing reins. Dozens of them were out front with what Shirou assumed were stable hands. Some were being guided around a track by their reins, while others were musing together in monitored groups; munching on frozen grass and occasionally licking one another. There were even a few fawns frolicking about in pens. A rambunctious bunch, they got a little too excited while playing and sometimes took to the air while trying to jump over one another. Of course, a stable hand would always be present to catch one of them just as they were clumsily flying over the pen's fence.
Of course, they weren't the only ones. Their seniors were practicing their much more rehearsed take-offs with some trainers, dressed in armor much like the soldier-knights inside the castle were. Holding a lengthy cable fastened to the reindeer's reins, a whistle would be blown and the deer would start up a gallop, stamping against the cold dirt until it was running on air, gaining further latitude with each pump of its hooves.
As if they were flying kites, the knights directed the deer on an orchestrated path through the air with a firm grip on the cables in their hands. Really, the deer appeared to be doing all the work themselves, running circles and swimming through the sky with little guidance from their "trainers". Then again, it could be that this impressive showing was just the result of the training they had received.
As Shirou saw for himself when one of the reindeer refused to do as it was told and began flying much higher than one of the trainer's had wanted it to.
"H-Hey! I need an extra hand over here!" the knight exclaimed, his heels leaving a trail of skid marks in the ground.
He received a pair of hands, and a extrapair on top of that. Unfortunately, reindeer — at least the mythical ones — were much stronger than they looked. With only a bit of a struggle, the reindeer continued its flight, and all four of the knights trying to bring it back down were taken into the air instead.
Agravain wearily watched the view with a vexed visage."Of all the times for these fools to be playing around…" He gave Shirou a look that said 'Stay here' before saying "Stay here," and heading off for the clamor.
Barely ten steps were taken before he stopped.
"Something else wrong?" Shirou asked.
His question was answered through sound, serene and beautiful, as though each chord was it own individual songstress. The person playing those notes rested on a stump, his fingers elegantly strumming strings. The rogue reindeer, now dragging half a dozen trainer by its cable, began its descent when it heard the music. It landed near the red-headed harpist gracefully, and was join by several other deer shortly after. It was the type of scene a winter-themed fairy tale would illustrate.
The initial trainer, who had nearly been taken for an evening trip through the sky, approached the harpist exasperatedly. "Sir Tristan! I'm so sorry, sir… I almost lost control of the reindeer, and-"
"You did not almost lose control of reindeer. You obviously did lose control," Agravain scolded while closing in with Shirou.
"S-Sir Agravain…"
There was no need to guess at what type of reputation someone like Agravain held in Saint Camelot. Taking a look at how the trainer stiffened up after one lashing from the secretary's tongue said it all.
"Tonight is cold enough with your usual countenance, Agravain. The trainers and reindeer are both understandably anxious. The king will depart soon."
"Which is why things should be running as smoothly as possible. Look at this," Agravain said while grabbing the reins on the deer. "New and expensive equipment – broken."
Shirou, still going relatively unnoticed by everyone else, took a closer look at the reins. Calling them broken was a bit of an exaggeration, wasn't it? Yes, one of the hinges on the reins had snapped apart thanks to the weight of the trainers yanking on the cable, but did something so minutiae really render the whole of the equipment worthless?
"What if it had been the reindeer to damaged? What if had broken its leg and had lost its ability to gallop through the air? What if it cracked one of its antlers, the source of its Mirth?"
Agravain kept throwing out 'what ifs' like a mother scolding their son who had only just barely escaped a trip to the hospital. But the composed Tristan wasn't impressed by his lecture, picking frozen berries off a nearby shrub while he listened.
"Of the eight reindeer that are going to lead the king's sleigh, seven have already been chosen," Tristan said while letting the deer eat the berries from his hand. "The final reindeer has yet to be picked, but I doubt any member of the herd here will be selected."
"You've missed the point."
"No, I've simply presented a new one. One that looks at the entire forest instead of focusing on a single tree – a rather persistent bad habit of yours."
Well, this was not going to end well. Even the deer could sense as much. Realizing how out of water he was, the trainer tried to take his reindeer and return to the stable with it. The reins were still broken, but he could have those repaired within a day.
He was surprised to learn that he no longer needed to.
"The reins… What happened to them?" he asked, nearly at a lost for words
The Knights of the Round Table heard his surprise and looked at what had shocked him so much – the reindeer's reins were no longer broken. They were as good as new, and the deer, looking very satisfied about something, was nuzzling a certain little elf's face.
"Heh, heh. You're welcome," Shirou told it, petting its head in return.
"Mmh?" Agravain steeled his brow.
"Hey, Agravain. Since the reins aren't as broken as you thought, this guy isn't in trouble anymore, right?"
The trainer perked up.
"Nonsense. Even if you erase a mistake, its blemish will still remain."
And then he lost it. After as harsh a scolding as one would expect from Sir Agravain, the train dallied off depleted with his reindeer, and those that had gathered around Tristan also scurried off. Lastly, the harpist in question found himself staring at Shirou. Though, 'staring' might have been the wrong word for it. The little elf had just realized that Tristan's eyes had not opened since he and Agravain approached him, and yet, he could somehow still distinguish that the little elf was indeed a 'little elf'.
"Is this the elf you brought back with you, Agravain?" he asked, following up with the question "Might I have your name?"
"Shirou Elfya."
"Hmm." Tristan hugged his harp. "Such strange surnames elves always seem to have…"
Agravain took a step forward, interrupting the two's exchange. "Tristan, I assume you've been at the stable since before evening? Has the king been here?"
"He has. Though, he left roughly an hour ago with several stable hands and a band of knights in his shadow, Bedivere and Mordred around them."
"What for?"
"The king wanted to construct a sleigh."
"...He already has a sleigh. One made from the finest wood Saint Camelot could offer."
"Yes, but it's the same one he used last year. Citing the king's own words: I cannot transcend as a Santa using these ancient wares. I require a new sleigh molded with new wood. Everyone who isn't currently occupied with something – come with me! …And then they all vanished into the woods together."
Agravain strained the corners of his eyes. "He's even more difficult this year than he was the last…"
After briefly looking exhausted, Agravain sighed, asked Tristan what direction the king and the others went off in, and headed that-a-way with Shirou in his shadow.
It wasn't long before Shirou commented about Saint Camelot's patriarch.
"King Arthur sounds kinda… tyrannical? He didn't sound so crazy in the myths. At least, not that often."
"His Highness simply wishes to be the best the Santa he can. If that means coming off as a tyrant from time to time, so be it. ...I suppose."It wasn't long before the duo found the team of woodcutters Arthur had so hastily assembled: Fourteen stable hands, nine knights, but no one who looked like King Arthur.
*✲*✲*✲*
The little elf peeked to and fro, spying everyone who was chopping down trees, and cutting up wood, and carrying it about, but not spotting the king anywhere.
"Where's King Arthur?" he asked Agravain, who was too busy looking briefly tired again.
He then approached the most authoritative-looking person in the area. While quite shorter than the others, his armor held splashes of an intimidating crimson, and his face remained hidden behind a horned helmet. Shirou was unsure why those horns had bells and ribbons tied to them, though.
"Mordred, where is the king?"
Sir Mordred, the notorious arbiter of the rebellion that would cause King Arthur's court to destroy itself, as well as murdering Arthur himself, was dutifully chopping down trees for the king along with the others. The bells hanging from his horns jingled when he turned around to face the Agravain.
"Agravain? Why're you here? …And is this the elf boy you brought back to the castle the other day?"
"Nevermind any of that. Just tell me the king's whereabouts. I was told by Tristan that he brought you all out here."
Mordred nodded, causing his bells to jingle again. "You just missed him. He left with Bedivere and few knights."
"Where for?"
"For his workshop."
"…Why?"
"Ahem. To cite the king's own words: I cannot become pinnacle of Santahood if I leave even a single good little boy or girl's wish unfulfilled. I need to make toys. More toys. The best toys Saint Camelot has every produced! …And then he left for the workshop with Bedivere, leaving me here to oversee the work being done."
Agravain stared at Mordred for a while. "…I see. When will the sleigh be finished?"
"Within the next three hours; at least forty minutes before His Majesty takes off."
"Good. I'll leave you to it, then. Shirou, come."
Come Shirou did as he and Agravain departed from another Knight of the Round Table. The little elf wondered just how many he would meet tonight. It wasn't long before he spoke about Camelot's patriarch again.
"Y'know, King Arthur seems really…whimsical?"
"He simply takes his position as a Santa very seriously. …More seriously than he takes his duty as a king it seems."
"…Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Stay quiet and keep walking."
In a tense quiet they headed back to the castle. While still excited, Shirou did a better job of controlling himself this time; likely due to him having toured so much of it within the past hour. Or so he thought. After heading down a spiraling, murkily lit stairwell into what Shirou initially and understandably assumed would be a dungeon, for the second time that night, he impaled his own tongue.
*✲*✲*✲*
"D-d-d-dis is…!"
Agravain put a hand on the boy's shoulder, advising him to calm down. Not that he couldn't understand his exuberance. This was, without a doubt, the most important place in all of Saint Camelot — Santa Alter's Workshop.
You could only call it a wonderland of children's dreams. Teddy bears the heights of houses sat together in rows. Dollhouses that could easily house the little girls they would be gifted to, along with some the friends they were playing with, were lined beside each other like miniature neighborhoods. Ride-on toy vehicles, complete with authentic seatbelts, horns, power-steering and FM radios were parked in a small lot in the corner. Life-sized effigies of super heroes from popular children shows stood above the rest of the dolls and action figures, as though they were guardians defending their fellow toys until delivery time arrived. And then there were the literal mountains of toys sitting in-between them all. Shirou guessed that stacking the toys in such a way was the only method the workshop's owner could think of keeping them from being littered about the floor all the time.
Whether or not that was fact, the mountains were honestly just too wondrous a sight for the little elf's eleven year old gaze. A trip to Nepal to see Mt. Everest, or a visit to the Andes to admire Alpamayo wouldn't have been as glorious as this.
"Who goes there? The king didn't give anyone else permission to enter," a voice called from behind one of the mountains of presents.
An effeminate looking knight left from behind it, a gift roughly the size of Shirou cradled in his arms.
His brow rose when he saw his fellow knight. "Agravain? Why are you—"
"Where is the king, Bedivere? An audience with him is all that I came here for," the secretary said bluntly.
He was getting very tired of the repetitive routine he and the little elf had to go through when encountering a fellow member of the Round Table, and Sir Bedivere, King Arthur's aide, could tell as much with just a glance.
Bedivere shrugged awkwardly. "The king left not too long ago."
Agravain said nothing. He face gave no expressions. His breathing was no rougher than usual. As collected as he typically was, he stood quietly and listened while Bedivere explained that the king had left for the other workshop in the Saint Camelot – Merlin's.
Thanking Bedivere for the information, Agravain and Shirou, again, left the knights doing duties for the king behind as they went on their Arthur-hunt once more.
The little elf soon realized how fast of a walker Agravain was. Never breaking into an actual stride, the knight kept a tumulus pace. Most impressively, his armor, with Shirou distinctively remembered making sounds earlier, was more silent than Shirou's shoes which were peeter and pattering against the floor.
"So… There's a second workshop in Saint Camelot?"
"Yes."
"And it belonged to Merlin?"
"Yes."
"…H-he's the court wizard, right? He's mentioned with Arthur a lot in the myths."
"Yes."
Thus, the conversation concluded itself. Shirou couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Agravain seemed very… tense?
Merlin's workshop was apparently located outside the castle, further out in the woods than even the reindeer stables. Just from a glance, Shirou could tell that they had arrived at the right place. The oddly architectured building looked too eccentric to belong to anyone but a court wizard. It looked like modern art from the outside.
*✲*✲*✲*
Surprisingly, he got to see Agravain look the most relieved he ever had when the knight noticed that the door to Merlin's workshop was still open, meaning the king must have only just arrived. Granted, Agravain's relieved expression was still stilted, but having spent over an hour with only this man as company, Shirou had come to appreciate the subtle difference.
"Child—"
"It's Shirou! I keep telling—"
"Yes, yes. As you say. Just keep silent until I tell you otherwise. I'll need to properly introduce you to the king."
Shirou hunched his brow. Why was Agravain, of all people, going out of his way just to 'introduce' some boy he had literally picked off the ground to his king in the first place? With his curiosity now at its peak, Shirou followed the knight inside the workshop when he gestured for him to.
It was… unique?
Merlin was the court wizard and most trusted advisor of Camelot. In the legends, he and Arthur were virtually inseparable, so Shirou had expected the home of such a esteemed mage's machinations to be a mysterious yet noble place. What he discovered instead was mystery, more mystery, and genuine bizarreness. Littered about the floor, tables, and occasionally just hanging from the ceiling were lengthy scrolls, upon which were written the most incoherent language the little elf ever had the opportunity to read. Or attempt, to be more accurate. He was positive that a Bachelor's in Linguistics was mandatory just to get through the first few sentences.
Then came the pets, some held in cages and tanks, while others dawdled about freely, peering curiously at the pointy-eared lad who had just walked into their owner's (at least, Shirou assumed…) abode. Then there were the relics that looked completely alien to the British Isles, the peculiar artifacts that even Shirou could sense still had some latent and dangerous magic lingering in them; the books and grimoires, many of whom were left half open, and several of whom hurt Shirou's eyes for some reason when he tried to read them; the literal tree that stood alive and well in the center of Merlin's home, and was decorated with ornaments and Christmas lights; and the fairies prancing about, doing whatever they well pleased to.
"What was Merlin always up to in this kind of place?" Shirou asked while shooing away one of the fairies attempting to steal his stocking cap.
"Despite my frequent spying on him, I never truly knew. I doubt you or anyone else would even understand if I attempted to explain it to you."
For once, Shirou thought it was best if he took Agravain's word for it. He managed to fend off the playful fairies while scaling the stairs to the second floor with his chaperone knight. It was here, in a room with far too many lanterns pending from the ceiling, they found another guest in the workshop. One who was hectically turning page after page of several different books. From the tone she was speaking to herself in, none of them held the information she was seeking.
"Damn that Merlin… He could have at least left a familiar or some obedient doppelgänger behind," she grumbled, casting an apparently worthless book to the floor. "It's just inconsiderate of him, allowing himself to be sealed in some godforsaken tower. And by Morgan of all people! Did he forget his duty as Santa's Helper Elf? How am I supposed to deliver gifts efficiently without an elf by my side? It's unreasonable; a crime against Santahood!"
"Excuse me, Your Highness. I hope I'm not interrupting," interrupted Agravain.
…King? Did Shirou hear that correctly? Surely that wasn't a masculine voice grumbling? Then Shirou folded his arms and quickly let his thoughts wash over him. He recalled the recently acquainted with Sir Bedivere. He was still a man despite his apparent femininity. So, King Arthur could also be—
"Agravain? You're here?" the 'king' asked while facing her secretary.
And so laid slain Shirou's theory...
He only needed one look to confirm it. King Arthur was most definitely not a man. Not unless her breasts were a leftover prank from her absent court wizard. And that blue low-cut gown she wore certainly did little to help matters. What she also wore a slightly bemused expression on her pale face. She examined Agravain up and down, as though assuring herself that the man who addressed her was indeed her secretary and not an assassin in disguise. Honestly, he could've have easily been both, but Arthur seemed satisfied in the end.
"Agravain," the king said rubbing the shoulder of his armor. "You've certainly been absent for quite while. Even after you returned to the castle, you went to great lengths to keep yourself tucked away from everyone else."
"Forgive me, Sire. Too many tasks had piled up while I was away. That along with the preparations I needed to make for your journey left me a bit preoccupied."
"I'm not scolding you. On the contrary, it's good to see you working so hard for this season. The Christmas Spirit burns brighter inside of you than any other knight in Saint Camelot."
Agravain gave a genuine smile for all of 0.3 seconds. "...Please. Compared to Lancelot, Galahad, Percival, or any of the others still out on their search mission, my work is considerably less impressive."
"Nonsense. Everyone underestimated how difficult it would be to find a way to retrieve Merlin, myself included. The others will likely return empty-handed, just as you have. Moreover…" Finally, King Arthur acknowledged Shirou who was still standing quietly in Agravain's shadow. "Your hands were fuller than you cared to admit, Agravain. Just who is this little elf that you brought back to my court two days ago?"
Agravain took a step sideways and gave Shirou a look that said for him to speak.
The little elf nodded and stepped forward. "Uh, h-hello… Sire. My name is Shirou Elfya."
"Hmm." The king folded her arms. "Always with the odd surnames… So, why have you come to Saint Camelot, Shirou Elfya? I'm told that Agravain only brought you into Saint Camelot after he found you passed out a few miles off."
"I came for a gift."
The king scowled, and Shirou almost hopped back in fear.
"Impatient children will only receive coal and an annexation from this Santa, boy. You will wait for your gifts, just as everyone else does!"
"N-no! You're misunderstanding! It's not a gift for me!"
"What? Then who—"
"My sister, Illya. I came for her gift."
"Oh. Well, then. While that's very selfless and sweet of you, Shirou…" The king took off her stocking cap and dug around inside. "Coming here personally was still ultimately unnecessary."
A thick scroll, much too large for the hat it was apparently hiding in, was withdrawn. Setting her cap back on her head, King Arthur unwound the list, letting it hit the floor and keep rolling until it had lapped around the entire workshop eleven times.
She held it towards Shirou.
"Why are you—"
"Read it yourself."
"But its your list!"
"Yes, but I cannot read it."
"…Huh?"
Agravain explained. "While every Santa possesses their own list, none of them are capable of reading them themselves. Only the 'original' Santa, who might not have ever existed at all, is said to have been able to. Every other Santa needs their Helper Elves to read names off the list for them."
"You're not a Helper Elf, but you're still an elf. Which means you're the only one at Saint Camelot capable of reading this list," the king said. She then forced it into Shirou's hands. "Now read your sister's wish!"
While ridiculously huge, Shirou was capable of finding Illya's name after searching through yards and yards of children whose last name ended with "E".
Illyasviel von Einzbern [12 years old] it read. Just by focusing on her name, the space underneath it grew on the list, and extra information about her appeared, including her place of birth, place of residence, blood-type, description of her appearance, her likes and dislikes, her future goals and dreams, a short list of her immediate relatives (Shirou's name included among them), and; in large, green sparkling letters, what her wish from Santa was.
"Well? What does it say, little elf?" King Arthur asked.
"…Nothing."
"What?"
"It doesn't say anything. It's just a row of question marks."
The king looked shocked.
"Nonsense! So long as your sister has a wish, no matter how meager, it should show up on the—"
"But she doesn't have a wish. This is why I had to come here personally, like you said. My sister didn't make a wish to Santa this year. Well... I guess, it more accurate to say she couldn't."
"Mhm? What's wrong with your sister?"
"She's in a coma. …I think. The doctor called it Winter Stasis Syndrome, but I don't know the details. I do know that she's been like for the past half a year, so she couldn't make her wish to Santa this year."
"So that's why you were passed out in the hills a few miles from the castle," Agravain said, the answer finally becoming clear.
The king hummed, ask popped a question Agravain's way.
"Tell me, Agravain. Just why did you bring Shirou from those hills. Not to offend you, but you aren't exactly the most charitable or goodwilled member of the Round Table."
The secretary shook his head. "Not at all, Sire. You're absolutely correct. My motivation for bringing Shirou Elfya here were purely out of my own self-interest."
"And now you're giving yourself too little credit. Your self-interests are Camelot's interests. Perhaps more so than anyone aside from myself."
In one instance, she speaks of his lack of morals. In another, she talks about how much he apparently cares for and acts on the behalf of Camelot. Agravain was turning out to be a much more complex man than Shirou initially thought, and like the king, he too was wondering why he had been rescued by this man.
"Your Highness, please take a moment to consider the idea I'm about to propose. I would think it would be in your best interest to make Shirou your Helper Elf?"
Me? Her "Helper Elf"? Shirou wondered, confusedly.
"Him? My Helper Elf?" King Arthur asked, confusedly. "Agravain, ordinarily, I value your advise on equal terms, if not more than, Merlin and Bedivere's, but this is simply a ridiculous proposal. I am the King of Knights, the Red Dragon of Wales, the Black Regent of the Britannia, and I'm supposed to take some child as my second-in-command this Christmas?"
Second-in-Command? Was the position of Helper Elf really so highly valued in Saint Camelot?
"Sire, taking young Helper Elves is a very common practice among Santas."
The king shook her head. "And now you're comparing me to the likes of those cheap, counterfeit Santas? Agravain, I am Santa Alter! My old self, Santa Arthur, was already a high-class Santa in her own right, but she was too soft. She didn't understand that being a good Santa meant more than just being a good king or being a good knight. Being a Santa comes before everything else. I am more than just the ruler of Britain, I am the Marshal of the entire globe, granting the wishes of good little boys and girls wherever they are!
"You try to compare me to other Santas, but that was your first mistake, Agravain. I am, from the ground up, their better. And I will not lower myself to their infantile standards. Now take this elf-boy and begone."
"But, sire! Without an elf, you will not—"
"I said begone! I am still a Santa. So long as I can meet a child face-to-face, their wish will instantly become apparent to me."
"So you plan to visit every child on the planet, and look them in the eye one by one? Sire, surely you recognize the absurdity of—"
"Agravain. You have tried my patience one too many times tonight. I'll not tell you again to vanish from my presence again."
Thus, with a defeated secretary, concluded the conversation.
"I see." Agravain bowed deeply. "Forgive my impertinence. I see now that it was most unseemly trying to push such an unreasonable agenda on you. Come, Shirou. We're leaving."
"…No."
Agravain gave Shirou a look that would make even the most veteran of guard hounds tuck their tails between their legs and whimper away. "Listen, child, I'll not have you insult my king by—"
"I don't care! I came here for Illya, and I'm not leaving until I get her gift!"
Obviously, Shirou was scared out of his wits. If not for how warm his clothes were, the lower half of his body would be shivering up a fit, but fear meant nothing to the little elf. Not right now, at least. The worst Agravain would do would be to throw Shirou out of Saint Camelot and let the winter cold eat away at him, but, in Shirou's mind, that was much preferable than just leaving Saint Camelot without giving his everything for Illya first. Agravain could feel this determination, and he was honestly a bit impressed.
Santa Alter was far more annoyed than impressed. Still, being the proud Santa that she was, she couldn't help but oblige the boy at least once.
"Fine. Since you want a gift for your sister so badly, tell me what it is you want and I'll give it to you."
"R-really?!"
Alter nodded. "I'll even have Bedivere personally wrap it with a pretty little bow on top."
"Your Highness, that isn't—"
Alter gave Agravain a glance. Nothing malicious or particularly stern, but enough for him to remain idle for the time being. While the secretary was amazed she was even entertaining this boy's wish at all, Shirou was too elated to even think that far. He gathered himself together enough to finally tell Santa Alter what Illyasviel wanted for Christmas.
"It has to be what my dad gave her before he adopted me – a Miracle Marble."
Both the secretary and his king made a face. A Miracle Marble… That wasn't just some ordinary gift one could just ask for and expect to receive; not even from a Santa. They were often likened to magical snow globes, but were more like eggs born from from beings made of pure Mirth, typically elementals.
How did his father even acquire such a thing? Agravain wondered.
He glanced at his king who looked more than a bit frustrated after hearing the request. She looked near ready to break something or someone before releasing a sigh and addressing Shirou directly.
"I see… A Miracle Marble is similar to a magic snow globe, only the world inside of it truly is another world and will behave as such, changing the contents of its insides and occasionally even trying to interact with its owner who lives outside."
Shirou nodded excitedly. "Yeah! Illya's Miracle Marble was called Tchaikovsky. It's inner world was filled with little ballerinas and nutcracker dolls, and sometimes they would dance and put on shows for her! The ballerina dolls would even sing and—"
"Yes, yes. Get to the point," Alter said, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Well... Illya's Miracle Marble… It broke two years ago."
"What? You cannot break a Miracle Marble. They're comparable to tools crafted by divinities in that regard. They can only be destroyed through…"
Alter froze. Her cold eyes spread for a brief moment, but solemnly shutting again, and Shirou's expression reflected her own.
"I see. Your father, Shirou... Was he the one who formed a pact with the elemental that created the Miracle Marble?"
Shirou slowly nodded.
"...Did he also happen to pass away two years ago?"
Shirou kept his head still, looking off sadly in some random corner of the workshop. It was just as well as a "yes".
At least Agravain could now understand Shirou's motivations. Initially, he had pinned Shirou down as either a dumb child who wanted to visit Saint Camelot or a selfish little boy who wanted to get his presents early. Neither of those could not have been further from his actual intentions. His father had passed away only two Christmases ago. Vanishing with his life was the most prized possession his daughter had ever owned, and now that little girl was trapped in some mysterious coma. The extent to which Shirou was willing to go through to obtain a new Miracle Marble for his sister bordered on suicidal, but his resolve for her behalf burned so bright it could have lit the room more brightly than any of the hanging lanterns did.
It's far too unfortunate that it was all for naught.
"I'm sorry, Shirou. I cannot grant your sister's wish," Alter said bluntly.
She may as well have struck him onto to the workshop's floor.
"B-but you're a Santa. More importantly, you're King Arthur! You personally know the Lady of the Lake, don't you? Isn't she an elemental? You can just go to her lake and ask her to make—"
"That's not how making a Miracle Marble works, little elf. Besides, I already have a preexisting pact with the Lady of the Lake. I can't form another. And she won't just form one with you, no matter how much you want to grant your sister's wish."
"But…"
Shirou cast his quivering eyes against the floorboards. He was on the verge of tears. Without even looking into his eyes, the Camelites could tell he was welling up. He held himself up remarkably well considering his dreams had just been so swiftly dashed, but still... he was still only a child.
"Is that all?" Alter asked.
The little elf sobbed to himself without answering.
"I see. I'll ask to be left alone, then. Agravain."
The knight nodded. He guided Shirou by his shoulder, more gently than he would done earlier, out of the workshop as per his king's wishes. Agravain wanted Shirou to be more static during their trips about Saint Camelot, but this somber silence was not exactly what he had in mind.For some reason, the trip back to the castle felt significantly longer this time. Agravain took Shirou to where his things were, as well helping him reclaim his newly sewn cloak, before escorting him to the castle's gates.
*✲*✲*✲*
"Hey…"
Agravain peered down at him while the knights guarding the gates began to open it. "What is it?"
"Aren't you going to take back these clothes you gave me? I'm still wearing them."
"Keep them."
"Are you sure about—"
"Merlin made those clothes himself as a precaution. They were to be given to the elf that would the king's next Helper Elf if, for whatever reason, Merlin himself was unable to."
"But I'm not going to be the king's Helper Elf. She rejected me…"
"She did. But seeing as she plans to leave Saint Camelot within less than four hours, I doubt I'll find another elf to fill the position in time. So, you may keep the clothes. They'll make your trip back much easier."
"…Thanks."
"If you wish, I can also obtain a horse or reindeer for you to—"
"No, thanks. I'm fine with walking. I just take a buy a ticket for an ocean liner like I did last time."
"Fine."
Thus concluded the conversation.
The gates were finally opened. Shirou, unsure of what to say to Agravain, gave him a light nod of thanks to which Agravain responded with an even lighter one. It appears that they were both equally bad at this sort of thing, just in seperate ways. His final farewell having been bid, Shirou took off through the gate while Agravain headed back to the castle. Just before making it through, Shirou looked back, and watched Agravain's back get smaller and smaller before finally disappearing through the castle's entrance.
Unlike Shirou, he did not bother to look back. The little elf sighed, donned the cloak he had inherited from his late father, and continued through the gate. Once he came out the other side, the knights at the top prepared to shut it again.
What a useless trip… Shirou thought to himself. I came all this way for nothing. Iri is gonna be really mad at me, I bet. If I could've at least gotten the Miracle Marble it would have all been worth it, but I— The elf had to stop himself again from almost tearing up.
While hearing to the grating of the giant gears of the gate behind him, Shirou held a moment of brief silence, broken only when he said "…I'm sorry, Illya."
And then thunder struck.
While it was quite implausible to say that thunder 'struck', but what Shirou had heard, what the knights at the gate heard, what had just caused the ground beneath the gate and the little elf's feet to rumble – lightning couldn't do that.
But neither could thunder. After running back through the gate to see what had done that, Shirou only found smoke.
"Is... Is Saint Camelot…burning?"
Originally Posted by Andaeus
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