Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Kieran]

...okay, that's a convoluted naming scheme, if I'm allowed to be honest here.

A little bit, but not the worst I've seen . . .

The first season is Prisma Illya, the second is Prisma Illya 2wei (Zwei) - which is German for "Two" - the third is 2wei Herz (German for "soul" or "heart," apparently), and then Prisma Illya 3rei ("Drei," or three). Then comes the movie, which doesn't follow the pattern at all.

oh. hell.... so Galen vs Angelica...

Amongst other possibilities . . .

[hatori]

you have to understand, amongst all the fight scenes i possibly love in the entire animated Fate series ( from Zero to Apocryhpa) that fight ranks in the top three. ( UBW's(not the movie one sadly) Shirou vs Gil and Zero's Saber vs Rider only ranking higher than that fight in Oath under Snow.)

I am now so looking forward to that fight. Especially since this is Galen we are talking about.


To avoid too much spoilers, basically you could put it like this chronologically : Oath under Snow - > Prisma Illya - > 2wei -> 2wei herz-> 3rei
Although accordingly in the manga, it'd be PI -> 2wei ->2wei herz - 3rei with Oath under snow being part of the exposition done during 3rei.

[Kieran]

you have to understand, amongst all the fight scenes i possibly love in the entire animated Fate series ( from Zero to Apocryhpa) that fight ranks in the top three. ( UBW's(not the movie one sadly) Shirou vs Gil and Zero's Saber vs Rider only ranking higher than that fight in Oath under Snow.)

. . . Well, if it's that good, maybe I ought to leave it alone . . .

Besides, you're assuming that the last line is said in the context you think it is.

I am now so looking forward to that fight. Especially since this is Galen we are talking about.

*Shakes head* Unfortunately, I've only gotten as far as Zwei Herz; I do know who Angelica is, thanks to the wiki, but . . .

*Sighs* Since even trying certain fansub sites (yes, I got that desperate) gave my computer seizures, I'm pretty much at the mercy of the dubbing companies - which is apparently Funimation now, for both good and ill. So getting into Oath Under Snow is going to be a wait, at best.

. . . Although, now I really want to see it!

To avoid too much spoilers, basically you could put it like this chronologically : Oath under Snow - > Prisma Illya - > 2wei -> 2wei herz-> 3rei. Although accordingly in the manga, it'd be PI -> 2wei ->2wei herz - 3rei with Oath under snow being part of the exposition done during 3rei.

Well, I suppose I could do it that way . . .

[kinlyki]

nyaa has some subbed versions of oath under snow.

On another note, the thing about Oath Under Snow's naming scheme, is that the movie was made in a way that makes it a prequel movie, rather than the flashback arc it really is. So that's why it doesn't follow the naming scheme.

[Xamusel]

...I think Kieran has made it clear he's not about to torrent videos or, well, just about anything if he can get away with it.

[Kieran]

...I think Kieran has made it clear he's not about to torrent videos or, well, just about anything if he can get away with it.

More or less - not that I don't appreciate the help, Kinlyki; thank you.

As I noted, I actually did get desperate enough to try, with this one - and my computer nearly had a seizure trying to cue it up. So I think I'm stuck waiting on an official release of some form, regardless, this time.

. . . In any case, at least with the movie, I can buy time by doing the "flashback" timeline sequence the manga uses - so it's not a total loss (I hope).

[Kieran]

Continuing . . .







Rin stumbled—and as she abruptly found herself in mid-air, the effect was rather more pronounced than it otherwise would have been.

Her memories were a hazy swirl, giving her a sense of a deck of cards being reshuffled, somehow . . . However, she was a magus (and an Occlumens), and more than that, an experienced wielder of the Kaleidoscope—it didn’t take her long to put things into something resembling a coherent order.

The phenomenon had erupted without warning; only her natural affinity for the type of event, and her distance from its epicentre, had given her sufficient time to ready her defences. Without that, she’d have been flat-out annihilated with the rest of that reality . . .

Rin frowned. Now at a far enough remove to actually think about events, she had to admit that even with time to consider things, she still no idea what had caused it—frankly, she didn’t have enough information to even guess at it—and that was, to put it mildly, worrisome.

Universes were not the sort of things that were destroyed casually, after all.

What impressions she did have of the event were peripheral in nature, almost more metaphysical than tangible; what could be termed “refractions of the Kaleidoscope.” A chill shadow, but not malevolent—and oddly familiar (a pseudo-Servant, shrouded in Death and chained to the Grail)—coupled with a sense of frantic energy, and a desperate reaching out . . . Although, perhaps that had been her?

Perhaps it had been. Rin could, if she concentrated on it, remember running possibilities at frantic speed, trying to find any way to survive, all the while seeing reality literally crumble around her . . .

She shoved those memories down, into a box and locked them as far away from her conscious mind as she could manage. Dwelling too much on that kind of thing would make her as crazy as the Old Man—

The mere thought of whom triggered another, more recent (from her perspective, at least) memory, and Rin covered her face with the palm of one hand.

OK, I admit I didn’t have really any warning about this—given my usual luck, really, I’m thankful I thought ahead about how to dump myself into an analogue, even if I had to figure out how to bypass the native Kaleidostick analogue’s protections to do it (note to self: patch that hole ASAP). But did I really have to end up in a reality where Zelretch has me playing “magical (cat)girl” with Edelfelt?!

She sighed.

Oh well, Rin reasoned, at least with my Ruby being functionally brain-dead in terms of personality, I won’t have to put up with any of its crap this—

“Integrating data . . .” an exaggeratedly-cheery, slightly mechanical voice interrupted her train of thought. “Update complete—well! I can’t say that I blame you for resorting to techniques like that in order to achieve your goals, Rin; but if that’s how you’re going to treat me, I’ll just find someone who’ll appreciate me!”

With that, the wand yanked itself out of her hand, retracting into its “rest” state, and flew off.

Naturally, Rin’s transformation—and with it, flight magic—ceased mere seconds later.

Unable to stop herself from screaming, Rin plummeted towards the ground (which looked to be several hundred feet away, albeit closing quickly), tried and failed to Disapparate, and followed by concentrating on Reinforcing herself to the point where she’d have a prayer of surviving the impact . . .

And then she found herself caught by a sudden blonde.

Surprised, Rin turned to stare at her rescuer—and then stared at her rescuer.

“You’re not Luvia,” the Japanese magus stated in surprise.

“It’s ‘Luna,’ actually,” the blonde agreed politely, before adding in an encouraging tone, “but you were close!”

“But,” Rin sputtered, even as she thought that the girl looked vaguely familiar, “but—what are you doing here?”

“Scouting for the Class Cards, of course,” Luna replied blithely. “Miss Edelfelt felt her time would be better spent preparing our accommodations and resources, rather than spending time with you.”

Rin’s teeth ground together, but she otherwise ignored the insult in favour of gathering information. “And who, exactly, are you?”

“Luna Lovegood, miss,” the blonde said brightly. “I’m Miss Edelfelt’s maid.”

“. . . She hands over a mission assigned by the head of the Magus Association, and a rare, legendary Mystic Code—to a MAID?!” Rin shrieked in disbelief.

“I’m also her second cousin,” Luna added, before frowning faintly. “Or is it third cousin . . .?”

That did it—Rin’s tolerances had been utterly exceeded.

“ARRRRRGGGGGH!”








Sounds like Sapphire should be heading this way any minute, a corner of Galen’s mind noted absently. The vast majority of his focus, however, remained fixed on the all-but-dead-eyed little girl in front of him.

“For your sake, I wish I was,” he answered her question gently. “But I can try to be, if you want me to.”

And hopefully, not make as big a mess of it as I always have before . . .

“Will you give me food to eat? And clothes to wear?” she asked. “Will you . . . Will you let me stay?”

“To the best of my abilities,” he promised. Maybe not up to Luvia’s standards—but if I’m here, I’m here because she needs me. I wonder if that means that Luvia doesn’t exist here . . .

He was still sorting through everything in his head; he’d gotten something like the standard Grail information package, even though everything it said told him that he was about as non-standard as they came. Apparently, rather than being a Ruler-class (which would be the expected one of the Grail’s protector), or even Ilya’s teasingly-named “Jester”-class Servant, he was apparently a “Demi-Servant” and “Foreigner” both.

. . . Although, did the latter really count if the “Elder God” and the “possessed human” were essentially the same being?

In any case, Galen had some power at his disposal to deal with the Class Cards, and wasn’t hurting for energy thanks to being materially-fused with his human self. He could, hopefully, protect Miyu from the people who’d end up hunting her—and while his knowledge of the latter arcs of Prisma Ilya could charitably be described as “fuzzy,” he knew that she would be hunted.

That wasn’t happening. Not on his watch.

Out loud, he said, “My name is Galen—what’s yours?”

“Miyu,” she said, “E – Emiya Miyu . . .”

Her voice broke on the last word, and as he moved to open his arms, she darted into the depths of his coat before breaking into tears.

Oh, hell no, it’s not happening, Galen seethed quietly, feeling his anger roil in response—tangibly, as something best left unseen roiled underneath the outer flesh of his arms. I’ll tear them apart first.

He’d always liked the soft-spoken little Japanese girl; of the newer additions to the TYPE-MOON universe, she was one of his favourite characters. As a living, breathing person, however—a lost and lonely child—she was heartbreaking to witness; no little girl should be that sad, ever.

And it hurt even more that she looked so much like Galen remembered Takara looking at that age . . .








Takara suddenly felt that tingling in her hands again—the one that made her want to grab Galen by the scruff of the neck and kiss him for being so sweet, and wrap her fingers around his throat and throttle him for being such an idiot, all at the same time. It was a feeling that, based on past experiences, promised massive amounts of stress, headaches and heartache. But this once, this once, she would let it go—because the fact that the feeling occurred, and sprang up out of nowhere, could only mean that he was still alive . . .

Even if she was almost certain she’d want to kill him when she found out what sort of mess he’d landed himself in.








Writer's Notes: Luna included because I'm not sure I want to just wipe out the Potterverse characters entirely; likewise, cast as a maid because I didn't want to summarily evict Luvia, either (which was my original plan). How Neville, Ginny or Hermione might manifest here . . . I don't know. I'm certainly curious as to your opinions, though.

[hatori]

Oho.....

Wait, is Takara back to normal (tweenage) or back in I-should-be-put-in-jail-for-even-thinking-of-it?

[Kieran]

She's Ilya's age, much to her annoyance - though Ilya finds her adorable.

[Kieran]

Continuing . . .








The three of them had gathered at the Einzbern home after school; once assured of adult supervision (the maids), and given the appropriate contact information, Ciel had been delighted to let her daughter spend time with her “new” friend, Illya. This had given them time to set up appropriate secrecy measures before Shirou came home, so they could start figuring out their situation.

“So,” Shirou drawled, “exactly how screwed are we?”

“Initially, not very,” Ilya admitted. “Comparatively speaking, at least – the Class Cards are dangerous, but more to a normal ten-year-old with no magical training than they are to us.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Actually, this is a lot safer than the Holy Grail War, in a lot of ways: the Servants are handled one by one, and in a mirror dimension that means zero collateral damage . . .”

Shirou snorted. “Saber would’ve loved that – Dad, too, mostly.”

“Yeah,” Ilya agreed wistfully. She scowled. “I kind of want to smack the founders, now, knowing what we got, instead.”

“. . . Are you feeling all right, Ilya?” Shirou asked, concerned. “That’s a weirdly mild response, for you.”

Ilya smiled brightly. “I’m just trying to stay in-character – this is our normal universe as re-imagined in the ‘kids’ collectibles’ genre, after all.”

At their bewildered stares, her smile sharpened abruptly, and she added, “Besides, it’s either this, or I start destroying things indiscriminately.”

Having had a lifetime of experience with Ilya now, not simply a few days’ worth of sporadic encounters during the Holy Grail War, he had learned a few things about his once (and-future-up-for-discussion) bride. One of them was that the Einzberns had deliberately taken steps to summon Herakles as a Berserker for his raw power, and unnecessarily so.

Why? Because when Ilya really got angry, her compatibility with Berserker was obvious – both in terms of her temperament, and the fact that she had enough raw magical strength to make Rin’s tantrums look adorable by comparison.

“. . . All right, then,” Shirou said mildly.

Acquiesce with grace, he knew, and there’d be less trouble about it later. Ilya was hurting – she needed to talk, to fall apart – but she wouldn’t let herself do it now. Even after all these years, and for all that she’d never cared about it, her grandfather’s training in the behaviour of a proper magus – and a noble, at that – was rooted too deep. Ilya had a mission to focus on; she’d accomplish it with elegance and professionalism, and damned be the consequences—

“Umm . . .” Takara’s voice broke his train of thought as she offered uncomfortably, “I can come back later, if you want . . .?”

Flicking a glance over to her, he was reminded of how young she was. Her current body helped with that, of course – as she was now, he was vividly reminded of his “childhood” memories of Takara, in the years before they attended Hogwarts – but more than that, it was that she’d spent the majority of her life as a normal girl. For all the elements around her, she’d had no exposure to magecraft, Dead Apostles or demon hybrids . . . Not until the Grail War, when she’d been thrown into the very deep end all at once.

She’d handled it well, he judged, all things considered – but every now and then, they were reminded that, even for such atypical magi as themselves, Takara was even more of an outlier.

Ilya, for her part, closed her eyes and sighed. “It’s all right, Takara-chan. You’ve been forced to watch us tramp through the closetsyour family’s skeletons are in more than once – we can handle your seeing our private thoughts if you can.

“In any case,” she said firmly, once more concentrating on the situation before them, “the seven Class Cards shouldn’t be any real trouble. A single Enforcer dealt with two, after all – and that was with no idea of what she was getting into. Between the Kaleidosticks’ abilities and ourselves, we ought to be able to handle things easily enough.” She gave them a grim look. “The problem lies in what comes afterwards.”

The way she’d emphasised the number of Class Cards made him wince. “Ilya, please don’t tell me—”

“Yes, there’s an eighth card,” Ilya said wearily. “And yes, it’s him—but Shirou, he’s just the opening act.

“To explain this fully, I have to give a bit of background,” she continued, without waiting for a reaction. “To all intents and purposes, there are effectively three people who are ‘Ilyasviel von Einzbern’ here. The first is a ‘normal’ 10-year old girl raised by her loving family, with fantasies of being a magical girl.” She gestured to herself. “Since she’s biologically identical to me, apparently minus certain modifications, I have to assume that she’s a potential Holy Grail; at the very least, she has remarkable untapped potential as a magus.

“The second is the actual ‘magus’ personality of Ilyasviel von Einzbern, with all the knowledge and skill a potential heir to the Einzbern family would be expected to have. It was designed to participate in the Holy Grail War, which was supposed ‘called off’ by Mama and Papa, As a result, the magus nature was deemed unnecessary, and it was sealed so effectively that it eventually develops its own consciousness, and manifests through the Archer Class Card. I don't think that one will be a problem here, thankfully, since I am a magus.

“The last iteration that could be seen as ‘Ilyasviel von Einzbern’ is a girl from a parallel world, who was ‘adopted’”—she made the appropriate air-quotes here—“into the Ainsworth family, and meant to be used as part of their Holy Grail War. Basically, she has a weird fusion of my and Sakura Matou’s personal histories; including the obligatory affection for Shirou.”

“Ilya—”

“As far as I know, it’s just familial affection,” Ilya stressed, adding under her breath, “mainly so that the writers can ship her with me . . . But it’s worth noting that unlike me, she’s your biological sibling – because it was her wish. Because also unlike me – again, so far as I know – the girl who ends up going by ‘Miyu Edelfelt’ is a completed Holy Grail.”

Two statements came out simultaneously at that revelation.

“But she made a wish? How?”

“You think Galen’s with her . . .”

“In reverse order,” Ilya answered, “yes, I do, and I have no idea. Galen never got that far in the series—just to the end of the third season, which was mostly filler. He was still waiting on the next one to be dubbed and released when . . .” She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it, and simply shrugged. “But he knew enough about what was coming to know that the Ainsworth family wants her back, and will be hunting her—and that they’ll have Class Cards of their own . . . From the Fourth Holy Grail War, it seems.”

Shirou stilled. “Saber . . .?”

“I don’t know, Shirou,” his once-wife said softly, as she often did when she was apologizing without actually saying the words. “For what it's worth, I don't think so, given that the Card shows up here . . . But I know there will be a girl fused with the powers of Gilgamesh—who killed your counterpart in Miyu’s world, to the best of my knowledge—and . . .”

She took a deep breath, leaving Shirou to wonder what could possibly be even worse than being told that.

“. . . And the powers of the Berserker, Lancelot, who can wield anything he touches as a Noble Phantasm—are used by Sakura Matou.”

Well, there’s that, a sardonic corner of Shirou’s mind said dimly, even as he felt his heart turn to a lump of still ice in his chest. That definitely qualifies as worse . . .

He hadn’t had much in the way of dealings with Sakura, not for decades; not in his original timeline, or any of the ones since. But that was because, when he was on his way to becoming Archer, by the time he’d learned of what had happened to her, it was years too late . . . And in the Fifth Holy Grail War of the world they originated from, he’d died, and then—

“Sakura Matou . . . You mean that psycho that Saber was partnered with?!” Takara shouted after a moment of silence had passed.

Shirou winced, abruptly reminded that Takara did have some experience with Sakura, and none of it good. “She wasn’t always . . .”

That was true, but also a lie; Sakura had been deeply disturbed the entire time he’d known her; he just hadn’t been aware of it . . .

“She was my friend,” he said at last. “And Rin’s sister—and when she needed us, we both failed her.” He looked at Ilya. “. . . Can we help her now?”

It was a measure of something—his ability to read her, her willingness to be open with him, or just how conflicted she was about the question—that he could see the struggle on her face. In the end, though, her answer was clear.

“. . . I don’t know—but we can try.” Ilya sighed. “We’ll still need to wait for Ruby to show up, or Rin—or until we find Miyu and Galen . . .” Her eyes widened suddenly, and her head snapped to one side. “Uh-oh.”

“‘Uh-oh?’” Shirou repeated, not liking the sound of that at all. “Why would you say that, Ilya?”

“Because while the timing was never totally clear, I think that Ruby should have been here by now,” Ilya repeated.

“. . . Crap,” Takara muttered. “So where is it?”








“Contract established!” carolled the sapient magical item. “Presenting Magical Girl, Prisma . . . I’m sorry, dear—what was your name again?”

“Mana,” the little girl answered brightly, unable to stop grinning. “Mana Ryougi.”

This was going to be fun!

[Xamusel]

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! XD

Ryougi Mana is the new Prisma instead of Ilya? Nice!! XD

[MWkillkenny84]

Trinity: The Draw (Fourth Hand)

And thus Murphy striked again.

[Kieran]

And thus Murphy striked again.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! XD

Ryougi Mana is the new Prisma instead of Ilya? Nice!! XD

Well, I basically had two reasons for this:

1) Ilya, as she is now, would basically destroy the setting. Not just in terms of power and experience, either; the general theme of Prisma Ilya is "normal girl with an every-day life becomes a magical girl," as per the usual trope - and Ilya isn't. I honestly don't think Ruby would enjoy working with her any more than Rin. Mana, on the other hand, is very much an ordinary girl - lineage aside.

(And does it strike anyone else as odd that the quote used by the wiki to justify the claim of her not having supernatural abilities doesn't actually say that she doesn't?)

In any case, she's more like the Ilya of the series; and she ought to be around the right age, too. So I thought it'd be more fun.


2) I recently discovered that The Garden of Sinners is on Crunchyroll (and unlike anywhere else, they actually use the "The" when alphabetizing the title, which explains why I didn't find it sooner), so I can binge-watch it. Plus, apparently it's getting released in a boxed set by Aniplex of America around my birthday, which means that for a ridiculous sum of money, I'll be able to own it . . .

[fsnfan]

Wait. The Miyuverse Shirou died? That can't be right.

Also, the thing about Miyu becoming biological siblings with Shirou can't be right either. It was Miyuverse Shirou's wish that was granted, not Miyu's. She wished for them to be real siblings and Shirou said they were but it wasn't like they suddenly become biologically related. It's kinda like Shirou acknowledging Illya as his sister.

[Kieran]

Wait. The Miyuverse Shirou died? That can't be right.

So I (and therefore, Ilya) assume - I've seen no confirmation one way or the other (and granted, I haven't been looking), but Miyu's escape and Sakura's working for the bad guys due to one's appearing as an illusion of Shirou certainly implies it.

Also, the thing about Miyu becoming biological siblings with Shirou can't be right either. It was Miyuverse Shirou's wish that was granted, not Miyu's. She wished for them to be real siblings and Shirou said they were but it wasn't like they suddenly become biologically related. It's kinda like Shirou acknowledging Illya as his sister.

And yet, according to the TYPE-MOON wiki, that's what happened. It's apparently why Miyu's eyes are that colour, because they originally were a sort of pinkish-red.

[Kieran]

May 2, 1998








Nobody saw it coming, although they should have.

They had already collected most of the obvious facts involved, after all: Voldemort was fully capable of concocting and executing convoluted plans with backups and fail-safes, often taking years to reach fruition. He was also a vindictive son of a bitch, perfectly willing to destroy what he couldn’t possess—and he’d broken into the Ministry years before—to hear a prophecy, they’d thought at the time, and he’d certainly tried, but he’d also laid a Portkey enchantment as a later trap, allowing him to kidnap Neville’s grandmother long afterwards.

. . . Really, it should’ve come as no surprise that, on his way through the Department of Mysteries, he might’ve made another stop. But it hadn’t occurred to any of them, either at the time or years later—and so Voldemort’s dying curse, a final strike at his enemies, went unnoticed, until it was too late.

With the death of the Dark Lord, the Department of Mysteries ended its lockdown, returning once more to “normal” reality; and the enchantment, sensing the link to its master’s life having been severed, did as it was meant to do—and blew the veiled arch in the Room of Death to pieces.

And it took the world—or at least, a very significant part of that world—with it.








Another Realm entirely








It said something about Hermione Granger’s existence (she refused to use the term “unlife”; it was incorrect on so many levels) that, upon awakening, she had only one reaction.

All right, that wasn’t strictly true: her first reaction, upon being assaulted by the memories, personality and consciousness of her new/other self, was to assimilate it. It wasn’t all that difficult, as said other was far younger and less experienced than she, and lacked her specific training in mental disciplines, magical and otherwise—much less the advantage of trawling through Galen’s memories for additional reference on the topic . . . And, she was woolgathering (a bit of a common side effect, from what she recalled; assimilating years of experience in moments tended to wreak havoc on the mental equilibrium).

Nevertheless, upon finding herself aware and more-or-less fully adjusted to her new and present existence, her first tangible reaction was to bolt upright in bed with a cry.

“‘ERMINE?’” she shrieked indignantly. “REALLY?!”

Falling back to bed with a scowl over her new name—which showed an appalling lack of creativity, if nothing else—the now-formerly vampiric witch muttered dire imprecations over whichever idiot had come up with it. Honestly, it was clear that she was meant to be a parody character of her “canon” self in this new reality, but one would think that given the number of sorceresses and magic-users even in the source material that they were so loosely adapting, that there. . . Would . . . Be . . .

“. . . Oh, bloody hell,” the witch muttered, as realisation hit.

Ever a champion of facts and organisation, Hermione mentally recapped everything she—or rather, Galen—could recall about the new time and place she found herself in.

This was the “Grimm (Fairy Tales) Universe” promoted by Zenescope Entertainment: a reality based upon stories, drawn from the aforementioned fairy tales, as well as myth, folklore, and literature in general. Not unlike the Wildstorm or Chaos! Comics of the ‘90s, it relied heavily on scantily-clad female characters as a selling point, with the odd bit of gore and other “mature subject matter” thrown in for flavouring. The earliest issues of Grimm Fairy Tales had had a distinct “Tales from the Crypt” style that Galen had found appealing, alongside the pretty girls and the twisted fairy tales—it was basically a trifecta of his favourite things, bound up in a comic book.

Now, more specifically than that, she was in one of the Four Realms of Power that surrounded the Nexus, otherwise known as Earth: Oz, the Realm of Hope. This was, all things considered, lucky; while Oz had its issues, and Earth was no picnic, the other three Realms were generally far worse. Here, all she really had to worry about—aside from occasional forays by the forces of the Dark One, and other entities that threatened the cosmic order—was the Wicked Witch and her minions . . . And judging by her local memories, that problem was dead.

For now, at least, Hermione reminded herself (she was not going to refer to herself as a weasel, for a whole host of reasons). As “I” am supposed to be meeting Glinda and her fellows to see about an apprenticeship this morning, I’ve at least landed between the first two volumes of the “Oz Trilogy,” even if I can’t say for certain exactly when in continuity I currently am . . .

At least this was one of the portions of Zenescope canon that Galen had managed to collect in its entirety—had she landed in Myst, or even on Earth, things wouldn’t be so clear for her. To say nothing of the fact that Neverland’s history was remarkably sparse on detail, even when he had all of its series, and Wonderland was just disturbing . . . Then again, being ruled by the last of the Old Ones (yes, the source of Lovecraft’s horrors) would do that.

Regardless, she was in a relatively good position, although that fact meant little when this place made the TYPE-MOON universe that Takara, Shirou and Ilya were born into look safe by comparison . . .

The “Grimm Universe” was a place with the godlike Highborn—including among their number actual gods, like the Greek pantheon—and the human-hybrid “Falsebloods,” who typically had some power to their name but were largely mistrusted, despised and/or hunted (and didn’t that all sound like a Death Eater’s dream realm?). It was nominally protected by the Realm Knights, but that was debatable, given that they had sealed the portals to the Nexus to protect it, and since the fairies had been all but wiped out (with one exception in particular), inter-realm travel was otherwise considered impossible—unless you were one of half a dozen exceptions she could think of off the top of her head, at least.

Despite those facts, however, it didn’t stop threats from getting to Earth in any appreciable way, aside from a notable lack of invading armies . . . Most of the time, anyway. So the validity of the Realm Knights’ protection from the forces of the Dark One was debatable, at best.

Of course, given that the opposition includes Venus, Baba Yaga, at least one version of the Grim Reaper, a serial-killer version of Cinderella, and is headed by the more-or-less-actual Devil, maybe I’m not giving them enough credit, Hermione allowed. Still, it was hard not to judge when most Realm Knights who weren’t the pretty girls with their own comics tended to follow the “inverse ninja rule” . . .

(. . . All right, so there were negative aspects to having trawled through Galen’s memories, as well—she’d picked up far too many of his speech and thought patterns.)

Regardless, this was not a nice place, and not one she’d have picked to end up in—and since she didn’t have “native” memories of her friends, if they’d survived, they’d all wound up in the other, more terrifying realms.

“If it was going to be fairy tales and literature-related, why couldn’t we have landed in Fables, instead?” she muttered under her breath. “At least happy endings are possible, there . . .” She sighed. “And I have a horrible suspicion that I just answered my own question.”








Writer's Notes: Sorry this took so long, is short, and isn't the next chapter of "Trinity: The Twilight" - everything has been fighting me today . . .

In any case, for those of you who don't read the comics (and haven't spent the last three years trying to catch up on a decade's worth of continuity): yes, "Ermine" actually exists (part of the Tales of Oz mini-series), along with Harry and Ron expys - she winds up apprenticed to a Zatanna knockoff. And I was thinking of dropping Shirou and/or Ilya in Neverland; having to protect Ai from Pan would be their worst nightmare. For Takara and her family, I was thinking Myst or Earth; either would work, really.

And Galen's probably in Wonderland - it's the easiest Realm to get in and out of, but it never really lets go . . .

[Kieran]

Writer's Notes: So, the Grimm Universe does not appear to have sparked interest. Let's try a different sort of horror, then . . .







May 2, 1998








Nobody saw it coming, although they should have.

They had already collected most of the obvious facts involved, after all: Voldemort was fully capable of concocting and executing convoluted plans with backups and fail-safes, often taking years to reach fruition. He was also a vindictive son of a bitch, perfectly willing to destroy what he couldn’t possess—and he’d broken into the Ministry years before—to hear a prophecy, they’d thought at the time, and he’d certainly tried, but he’d also laid a Portkey enchantment as a later trap, allowing him to kidnap Neville’s grandmother long afterwards.

. . . Really, it should’ve come as no surprise that, on his way through the Department of Mysteries, he might’ve made another stop. But it hadn’t occurred to any of them, either at the time or years later—and so Voldemort’s dying curse, a final strike at his enemies, went unnoticed, until it was too late.

With the death of the Dark Lord, the Department of Mysteries ended its lockdown, returning once more to “normal” reality; and the enchantment, sensing the link to its master’s life having been severed, did as it was meant to do—and blew the veiled arch in the Room of Death to pieces.

And it took the world—or at least, a very significant part of that world—with it.








Somewhere else








Shirou felt like he’d been dragged by the neck across several miles of bad road; “bad,” in this case, meaning “a trail of jagged, salt-encrusted obsidian shards, heated to near-melting point.”

Still, he managed to pry himself out of unconsciousness and motionlessness, opening his eyes to behold—

The waiting area of a police station, or at least, that was what it looked like. Something about it seemed “off” to him, hazy and indistinct . . . But then he’d blink, and it would be clear, making him wonder if it wasn’t so much something wrong with the image as with his vision.

Did I take another head injury? Shirou wondered. It’d sure be consistent with how I’m feeling right now . . .

Next to him, Ilya stirred, causing him to realise her presence. “. . . Shirou?” She looked and sounded no less groggy and confused than he did. “Where are we?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. There were people around them, but none of them seemed to pay them any attention—and they were using American accents, if he heard them right. Since he didn’t recall crossing an ocean in the last few years, much less minutes, it was an understandably unnerving realisation.

“Yo, Einzbern family!” a uniformed cop called from a room down the hall. “Captain’ll see you now.”

Looking at each other and blinking, Shirou and Ilya rose—realising only then that Kiritsugu and Iris were with them, as well.

Something is blocking our perceptions, or at least muddling them—a Confundus Charm, or a Notice-Me-Not? Shirou couldn’t be certain, nor could he understand why, but it was becoming clear to him that it was happening. That made him tense; what made it worse was that he couldn’t feel any of his usual weapons on him, either. No wands, no backup knives (something rarely expected by the people he dealt with)—even his coat felt lighter, as though it’d been stripped of its Kevlar lining.

Somebody has gone to an awful lot of trouble to leave us helpless—but if they can go that far, why leave us alive . . .?

The “captain” they’d been called to see was a stereotypical American, to most Japanese: blond-haired, blue-eyed, with a significant amount of both muscle and bruising; his nose had been broken at least a couple of times, Shirou estimated. That, and his general build, implied “ex-boxer,” but police work could leave its own marks. His office was like something out of those old film noir movies Galen liked, with a total lack of electronics or modern apparatus.

Just as curious, in Shirou’s estimation, was another: a dark-featured but otherwise nondescript man, dressed in janitor’s coveralls, of all things. His nametag said “JAKE,” but given the situation, Shirou doubted that was his actual name.

“These are the guys you wanted?” the blond man asked the janitor, receiving a nod. “Right—no doubt you four are pretty confused right now.”

“Just mildly,” Ilya said quietly, but Shirou could feel how tense she was, even without touching her. It radiated from her like heat from a furnace.

The blond’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced down to a sheaf of papers before snorting and looking at her flatly. “Oh, yeah—I suppose you would be, wouldn’t you.”

Despite the phrasing, it wasn’t a question, and he continued without waiting for a response. “Look, a lot of what’s going on here is so far above my pay grade, I couldn’t spot it with a telescope, so I can’t say I understand much of the details. What I can tell you, is the fight between good and evil is complicated; it takes place on a lot of different levels and battlefields. None of this should be a shock to any of you, right? Right.

“Now, you guys did your part, and you were on track to do a lot more good. Seriously,” he added, with a shake of his head, “humanity is probably never going to be perfect, so sunshine and rainbows all the time wasn’t going to happen . . . But knowing what you knew, doing what you were planning? You have no idea what you were going to manage.”

He shook his head again. “So the opposition, naturally, made a bid to take you out, pre-emptively—and they succeeded, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Ilya repeated, looking very intently between the two men in front of them.

“Yeah, kid—it’s down to the method. You really think that Lord What’s-His-Face would think of planting a final ‘screw you’ that thorough, that far in advance, all on his own? Nah—he might’ve been Einstein, Hitler and Merlin in one seriously messed-up package, but nobody is that good. He had a little help, which means that we can balance the scales a bit.” The police captain chose that moment to scowl. “You aren’t going to like it, though.”

Ilya repeated, with greater emphasis, “Mostly succeeded?”

“This is where it gets technical, OK? And I’m a cop, not a rocket scientist—or a wizard, either,” he added. “You guys were all energy, once upon a time; and then you, missy, plugged yourself and your friends into where and what you were. Blowing up that arch wasn’t a bad idea, in terms of killing you—but because of what it is, it can also just turn you back into energy, to be moved somewhere else.”

He held up his hands. “And I really can’t give any more detail than that—it’s all gibberish, as far as I’m concerned.”

“And which ‘somewhere else’ did you have in mind?” Shirou asked.

“In terms of that fight we were talking about earlier, a level that’s grimmer, grittier, and a much different front,” the captain said. “You’ll still have magic, but it won’t be the same—and your enemies won’t be anywhere near as simple as the last bunch. More like the bunch before that, really—because it’s not where the little lady is probably thinking of.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll do much to improve our odds of survival,” the redhead noted.

“Life ain’t easy, kid; that’s its only guarantee,” the cop replied bluntly. “That and that it ends, eventually.” He shrugged. “You’ll have the same odds of making a life you’ll enjoy that you always have: put in the work, and you can probably manage it, though I admit that the conditions likely won’t be as good as you’re used to.”

Ilya glanced over to her parents—particularly where Iris was holding Ai, Shirou realised with a start. Given that their daughter had been in Grimmauld Place, as far as he’d been aware, that was a disturbing sight, to say the least.

“When I did this the last time,” his wife said carefully, “there were certain adaptations that needed to be made . . .”

The older man grimaced. “I said you weren’t going to like it.”

His tone was apologetic, but unyielding.

“. . . Mother, me, or both of us?” she asked at last.

“Like I said earlier,” the cop replied, “you’re not going to end up where you’re thinking. The Veela thing won’t be a problem—but the family . . .”

“Ilya?” Shirou didn’t quite demand an explanation, but it was definitely implied.

“. . . I don’t know,” she said sombrely. “If it was the—world written about by Jim Butcher,” she said hastily, obviously changing whatever she’d been about to say, “there would’ve been trouble because Veela are faerie creatures; and while faeries can breed with humans, they don’t really think or feel the way that humans do. And the resulting changelings that are born between them are torn between their human and faerie natures, until they Choose one . . . And given my relative power level,” she added, in a tone of sudden realisation, “it might’ve been even be worse.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything,” the cop said flatly. “Like I said before, it’s way above my pay grade.”

Legilimency didn’t seem possible right now, either, but Shirou caught a look from Ilya which communicated, nevertheless. And what it said was, “That doesn’t mean he didn’t hear anything, and a non-answer can be an answer all on its own.”

“Which means . . .?” Kiritsugu asked, speaking for the first time.

“Nothing that matters,” Ilya said, “if we’re not going there. But if we aren’t, then I don’t know exactly what the problem is.”

The careworn face of the captain held a mix of sympathy and shame. “. . . The place the higher-ups want to send you is in real trouble—on a global scale—and you could do some real good there . . .” He sighed. “But in order to avoid tipping off the enemy—the girl they want you to replace is a prepubescent orphan.”

It was a testament to how used to having Kiritsugu and Irisviel in his life he was—how much they actually meant to him—that Shirou felt something akin to the sensation Rin described as her magic circuits’ activation trigger: to wit, a dagger stabbing his heart. For Ilya, who had known the sensations of loving and losing both parents once already, he couldn’t quite imagine how much worse it had to feel . . .

(And in a dark corner of his mind, Shirou considered the idea of being simultaneously reminded of his first meeting with Ilya and all it entailed, as well as blue-balled for at least half a decade, and more probably a full one. He didn’t like it, and knowing his wife’s libido, she liked it even less.)

“Is there an alternative?” he asked. “Does she have to be that person, specifically?” He blinked as the rest of the problem hit him. “And is there anything we can do that would let us keep Ai?”

“We can hold onto the kid, until it’s time again for her to be born,” he assured them. “And she’s young enough we won’t even have to manipulate her memories to ‘wake up’ at a certain age; she’ll never have a chance to miss you. We aren’t that cruel—if we were, we’d be the other side. But your parents . . . To do the most good, and the most subtle infiltration, it has to be this person. She’s the one of the major pieces the Enemy is using against the locals—the indirect one, and the one with the most temporal influence. The other major piece is a lot more powerful, powerful enough to have pawns of its own, but limited in how it can apply them without giving itself away.”

He sighed, again. “The best I can promise, kid, is that if we can move your parents on with you, we will—but they won’t be your parents anymore. Just—maybe—close friends, or adopted family.”

And now it was Ilya’s turn to sigh. “. . . And if we refuse this?”

“Then you go on,” he said gently. “We won’t hold it against you—again, that’s the other side’s shtick. You guys fought the good fight, more than once, and you’ve earned your rest . . . But you wouldn’t be given this offer, if we thought you would refuse it.”

Shirou frowned. He supposed that the nice thing about this was that, unlike just about every other manipulator in his life, they were being upfront about it. And the truth was, he wanted to try and save those people. If they were facing something even remotely similar to Voldemort, on a global scale, then—

Kiritsugu cleared his throat, startling Shirou out of his train of thought, and he realised that his parents had been exchanging wordless looks for some time. Finally, his father’s eyes flicked over to Shirou, and then Ilya, before going back and forth between them.

“You want to save them, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Shirou said, sounding not a little apologetic. “At the very least, I think I should try.”

He turned to Ilya, who sighed with more than a hint of despair, and nodded wordlessly.

“It’s a parent’s job to do what they can for their children,” Kiritsugu said, with surprising gentleness; at least, to anyone who didn’t know the man behind the assassin. “And if accepting those consequences means that you can live happily—that our granddaughter can live, happily—then there really isn’t anything else to do.”

Ilya’s eyes went wide as her gaze darted back and forth between the two. “But, that means you and Mama—!”

“Ilya-chan,” Iris said softly, “I remember. Here and now, I remember all of it—and compared to what I was, even this won’t be so bad.”

“It’s not the first sacrifice we’ve made, Ilya,” Kiritsugu said heavily. “Not even the first we’ve made for you—but it will be the first that really means something.”

“I have had,” Iris said simply, “a lifetime of loving my husband, and my family. A lifetime I wouldn’t have had without you, and what you did. I am so proud of you, Ilya-chan—and you too, Shirou-chan,” she added quickly. Then she smiled brightly. “And what else can a mother do, but try to live up to the example of the woman her daughter’s become?”

They turned to the captain.

“We’ll do it,” Kiritsugu said. “Whatever it is you have in mind, set it up.”

“Please and thank you,” Iris chimed in politely.

The police captain glanced at the janitor, who nodded, a smile on his face.

Amidst the sound of an onrushing train, Shirou’s world went white—
 






En route to Elenium Labs
Unified Year Calendar, June 1923








As she stared at her reflection in the train car’s window—once again a blue-eyed blonde, though one whose hair had whitened from shock—Ilya seethed internally.

“Someone is going to die for this,” she muttered under her breath.

According to official records, her new name was “Tanya Degurechaff,” at least, it appeared to be; a few well-placed accidents, alongside some deliberately wretched handwriting, had convinced people of the error that had misnamed Ilya Degurechaff, at least. Still, it would probably be a while before paperwork caught up with her preferences, in this pre-digital age . . .

She was an orphan, all of ten years old, a citizen of “the Empire” (which appeared to mean “Germany,” more or less), and a decorated military veteran whose award had been won in the same battle that had turned her hair, and apparently contributed to her nickname: “White Silver.” One of the opening battles of World War I, so far as she could tell—despite the fact that, according to the historical calendar she knew, said war ought to have ended around five years earlier.

It had to be a Japanese-fiction world, she’d decided. Aside from the “alternative history” angle, too many of the names she was encountering in her studies fit the “sounds foreign to a Japanese ear, even if a native speaker would never name a child that” mould that was so common in light novels, anime and manga.

. . . But that said, she had no idea what series she might have landed in, aside from something war-related!

Well, no, she amended. I mean “what series we might have landed in”—not that it does me much good right now.

Shirou was here—she’d seen him among the cadets she was assigned to instruct in her current posting—but she’d had no chance to talk to him. Ilya had gotten her hands on his file, at least: according to it, he was a refugee from the “Rus Federation” and its recent revolution; his (deceased) father had been a P.O.W. from the “Akitsushima Empire”—this Earth’s equivalents to Russia and Japan, of course. And whereas in the Rowlingverse, he’d resembled a steel-eyed Shirou Emiya, this time, he appeared like a red-haired, brown-eyed EMIYA . . .

It was odd, and she was intensely curious about the changes, but she had no ideas what the rules on fraternization between cadets and instructors were—or anything more, for that matter.

Not, she thought glumly, that “fraternization” is really an option in my current body, anyway.

Still, she supposed that at least for now, the good news was that she was away from the front lines. Instead, she was acting as a combat instructor for the military’s “aerial mages” (easy enough, for a literally born magus with the muscle memory of a combat veteran), and on her way to her second assignment: test pilot for some new piece of equipment.

How hard could it be . . .?

[Xamusel]

Ilya, you jinxed it, didn't you?

[hatori]

Youjo Senki huh.

[Kieran]

Ilya, you jinxed it, didn't you?

Oh, yeah . . .

Youjo Senki huh.

Yeah - I've been watching/reading it lately. I thought the parallels in magic - not to mention Ilya's naturally being a demonic little girl - made for a nice parallel. The Dresden setup, I felt, was necessary given the "divine intervention" of the universe in question.

At the very least, this ought to be interesting because Ilya isn't Tanya (similarities aside), and not all of the Trinity characters will be inserted as Empire nationals . . . And let's face it: when one of the antagonists is literally named "Mary Sue," the setting is practically begging to be screwed with.