I would kinda be interested in black court vampires. maybe thats because they would probably have the strongest servant though. also, congratulations, this may literally be the only crossover fic I have ever really enjoyed.
I would kinda be interested in black court vampires. maybe thats because they would probably have the strongest servant though. also, congratulations, this may literally be the only crossover fic I have ever really enjoyed.
Originally Posted by Bird of Hermes
That makes me a little sad to be honest.
But I know where you are coming from.
The really good ones are few and far between, it's true - but they do exist, if you search hard enough. Thank you, though. I will try very hard to continue to live up to (or is that exceed?) your expectations.
EDIT: Forgot to address these points earlier:
Well, she hasn't gotten her kiss yet. And it's mostly a case of, "Nobody gets to break my toys but me."
Yeah, and it's your fault. You started me thinking about this again, which finally let me break the Servant block. I'm not sure if I should thank you for helping me deal with an annoyance, or curse you for adding to my writing load - but if this ends up tanking, I'm blaming you.Finally I'm very happy to see this starting up again!
Last edited by Kieran; July 8th, 2011 at 09:03 PM.
Still cannae wait for the next chapter.
Kieran did that pdf link of Our World from the Dresden Files RPG help in any way with this story?Yeah, and it's your fault. You started me thinking about this again, which finally let me break the Servant block. I'm not sure if I should thank you for helping me deal with an annoyance, or curse you for adding to my writing load - but if this ends up tanking, I'm blaming you.
Nope - turns out neither of my computers will handle the file. Appreciate the thought, though.
Why can't they handle the file? Is it too big? True it's 68.8 MB in size, but you're computer should be able to download it. Does your computer have Adobe Reader 9 or 10? Both are free to download from what I remember.
From the glitchy images, it's probably the reader - if so, there's nothing I can do about it. My writing computer isn't Net capable, so I can't upgrade Adobe there, and the Net computer, I'm not allowed to make changes to. *sigh* Oh, well - it was a nice idea.
On a story-related note, work on the next chapter will begin after I've posted the next chapter of "Trinity," so some time today. With luck, it'll be up tomorrow.
DISCLAIMER: Fate/Stay Night and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. The Dresden Files and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Jim Butcher, along with his publishers, Roc.
This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.
Writer's Note: This story takes place during the events of Blood Rites.
Chapter 5
Now, I have had the good or bad luck to have been through a number of tussles in my life, more than most of them involving one flavour or another of supernatural creature. As a result, in addition to the rules most people learn about fights, I’ve picked up a few hard and fast rules for dealing with the more unique situations. One of the ones pretty high up on the list is, when caught between two women, get the heck out of the way. And when it’s two supernatural women, just get away. Sure, the catfight will probably be fun to watch, but you want to be out of the line of fire when it happens. And given that a Sidhe Queen was one of the participants, I was personally classing “out of the line of fire” as being on one of the other Japanese islands.
Needless to say, I dove for the floor, rolled to one side, and ran into a classroom. At least, I intended to. Unfortunately, while White Court vamps aren’t exactly real powerhouses (from what I’ve been told, they’re lovers more than fighters), they’re fully capable of amping themselves beyond us mere mortals. Especially once they’ve fed, and the Red’s corpse on the ground was ample evidence that she’d had a good enough meal to get away with more than flesh and bone really ought to. I barely had time to stand up before she was on me, and I had just finished blinking when I found myself ensnared in slender arms that felt like steel bands, my head pillowed by what felt like a truly magnificent pair of . . .
Hey, she was literally a born seductress, and I was seventeen, straight, and male. We’re not exactly known for being sensible or asexual - Bob’s occasional snide remarks to that effect aside.
“You cannot interfere in this, Lady Winter,” warned the predator behind me, the dark honey of her voice sliding down my spine to create tense shivers. “You have not the right or the authority. Even without the compulsions of your nature, the strictures of the rite bind even one of your power. You are not Winter’s champion, unless your Queen has decided to risk a very great deal in this - and if the rite’s own magic doesn’t kill you for interfering, I have no doubt that she will.”
Maeve was still bristling, her posture tense, but the vamp’s comments evidently made sense to her, because she smiled in response. At least, some people would call it a smile - it looked more like baring fangs to a rival predator, a shark-toothed grin while her eyes gleamed with a mirthful, malicious light.
“All of what you say is true,” the Winter Lady acknowledged. “And yet, also incorrect. The boy wizard you hold, vassal though he may be, stands unclaimed, and to reap him now would invalidate the ritual . . . With, of course, all the consequences that implies. Furthermore, he is a perfectly valid target for me - I am not Winter’s champion, in truth, but our champion has yet to join the battle, or to claim our vassal. Therefore, your actions could be constituted as interference in the ritual - with, of course, all the consequences that implies.” Her grin widened wickedly. “In addition, he and I have a bargain struck, and I am come to claim my prize - which your actions would render impossible. And Maeve keeps her bargains, soul-drinker.”
Her eyes narrowed, and the air temperature in the corridor began to drop again.
“You believe yourself safe, shielded by the covenant,” she whispered. “Very well - take that step. Try my limits . . .” Her voice became a hungry purr, her eyes alight as she murmured, “It has been so very long since I have played with one of your kind.”
The pressure on my throat eased, and I heard the sound of breaking glass almost instantly. The vamp had apparently decided to dive out the third-story window rather than face Maeve. Frankly, I was fairly sure it had the right idea, but I was even more sure that if I tried running for my life, Maeve would be insulted. I really didn’t want to make her feel insulted, or angry - she was scary enough when she was in a good mood. Of course, that might be because I’d seen what she considered fun . . .
“I suppose I owe you for the rescue,” I rasped. Even without employing enough strength to actually choke me, the vampire had held me hard enough to feel like my windpipe was bruised.
Maeve scowled. “You owe me only a hearing, unfortunately. I would fain take something far more pleasant from you, but my queen bids me act as her herald in this. I spoke truth - Winter is not yet afield in this contest, and the longer the delay, the more likely our defeat.”
She was doing this to tease me, I was sure. Trying to provoke me into asking questions, into digging myself deeper into her debt. And wizards have this thing about knowing stuff - we need to. So it was pure torture not asking Maeve what the hell was going on, but I knew that if I did, I’d soon expand my understanding and definition of the phrase. Maeve apparently had no trouble reading my expression, because hers turned mirthful, before souring.
“Worry not, Shirou - you bargained better and more poorly than you know. Better, indeed, for I must fulfill my portion of our bargain before collecting my price, by my queen’s command. She extends to you an offer which must be answered freely and of your own will, and I fully intend to render you insensate in the payment of our bargain.” A trace of her usual sultriness graced her eyes and lips with her last words.
I sighed mentally, deciding that if it helped keep the spooky faerie princess happy, I could survive this.
“And how did I choose more poorly?”
The grin on her face widened into another full, toothy smile. “Because, by Mab’s command, in relaying her offer, I would eventually have given you this information freely.” She licked her lips. “And for that answer, young wizard, I claim the right to choose where I collect my prize.”
My eyes didn’t quite leave their sockets, but they certainly made a valiant effort. “But - it wouldn’t count anywhere but on the lips!”
Maeve’s green eyes suddenly glittered like moonlight on a sea of verdant ice, and I suddenly felt like a complete idiot - I’d basically just given her permission to kiss me anywhere but there, and not have it count as the one I owed her. Dad would have my head for being so careless - if Maeve wasn’t liable to end up taking it first.
After a moment, however, she pouted. “Though it pains me to admit it, young wizard, Mab’s orders were quite specific - such dalliances as I would prefer must come second to her message, and I am required to speak the truth until it is delivered.” A truly pained look crossed her face as she added, “Fully. Therefore, I am compelled to clarify: I do indeed claim the right to choose the location in which I claim my payment - but I spoke of the environs, not your body.” She held out her hand. “Come. I would fain deliver this message, and thus rid myself of this geas, before it drives me mad.” She scowled at that statement, clearly not liking the lengths to which Mab had compelled her to speak truthfully.
Truth be told, I didn’t like that she had been. The Sidhe can’t lie, but they are expert truth-benders. They’d have you believing black was white, if they wanted to, and never an untrue word spoken in the bargain. Wholly accurate, on the other hand . . . In any case, for Maeve to say that she had been compelled to speak the truth, she had been. If Mab had given me that much slack to play with, she had - and whatever she wanted from me, she wanted very badly. And she knew me well, if she’d chosen this as the most likely way to get it from me. No, I didn’t like this at all - but there weren’t too many outs, so I did the only thing I could do: I took her hand. There was an abrupt flurry of snowflakes swirling around us, and then we were away.
The room I found myself in was composed of frosted gray marble - no, strike that. It was ice, thickened and moulded to approximate the strength and texture of stone. Faerie lights, muted hues of green and blue and purple, shone through their surfaces, illuminating a room done in the same colours. Personally, it reminded me of some of the clubs I’d seen in Chicago, minus the ear-killing “music.” Sure, some of it might be tolerable - but not when I can hear it from a block away, and the club is underground in the first place. If the soundproofing is that bad, I’d never survive actually going in with my hearing intact.
“One of my sitting rooms,” Maeve murmured beside me, her breath an icy fog on my skin, making me jump. “Not so sumptuous or comfortable as my bedchamber, in truth - but I intend for you to see the truth of that at only one time, young wizard, and it is not now.” I turned, and saw her lick her lips, staring predatorily at me as she added, almost coquettishly, “Perhaps afterward?”
I’d like to say that I understood the full implications of that statement immediately. I wish I could say that I was stalwart and disciplined enough to ignore the incredibly hot looking faerie girl long enough to comprehend everything about what she’d said. Unfortunately, seventeen, straight, and male. Maeve might not have the built-in allure of the White Court, but she was still an exquisite figure with at least a century’s worth of tricks and experience in the art of seduction. Trust me, that was more than enough to ignore even the direst implications for a moment. When they finally caught up with me, it felt like I’d been bludgeoned with Dad’s staff for a minute.
“This is Arctis Tor,” I said, not making it a question. Silly me - I’d assumed that she meant to simply pass through the Nevernever to wherever the Winter Court might be based in Japan. Instead, she’d brought me into the heart of Winter itself. And as one of the three Queens of Winter, she could manipulate time’s passage here, relative to the real world. We could talk for an hour, and I could lose a century by the time I got back.
Oh, I had really screwed this up. This was one of those times I wished my life was like a big computer game - when I got to points like this, I could just reload from a stored file, or start over entirely, and choose a new route. Unfortunately, my life doesn’t work like that way - or anybody else’s, as far as I know. Time travel was prohibited by the Seven Laws of Magic, so they weren’t ever likely to, either. But right now? Boy, did I wish . . .
“You are a guest of the Winter Court this night, young wizard,” Maeve said firmly, her eyes hardening. “No harm or mischief shall come to you within these walls, directly or indirectly - unless you ask for it, of course.” The smile on her face would’ve been familiar to anyone in the Garden of Eden, I’m sure: Go on, Adam, eat this apple. The serpent said it was all right.
Now I was seriously freaking out. Winter didn’t do this, didn’t act like this - Dad’s godmother’s idea of protecting him, at one point, had involved turning him into one of her hounds. Mab had blackmailed Dad into working for her by voodooing him into stabbing himself with a letter opener. I’d watched Maeve hand off instruments that had killed musicians who had said they’d die to play well, once, and smile as they expired. Maeve was being playful - and that I could sort of handle. I was used to it. But helpful? Showing something approximating actual concern for my welfare?
A sinking feeling began in my stomach as I realised that whatever it was they wanted, it had to be huge. Bigger than heading off a war between Winter and Summer that could potentially bring about an apocalypse . . . Scratch my earlier statement. My stomach hadn’t sunk, it had dropped outright, and was probably about halfway to the earth’s core by now. And boy, did I wish I could’ve gone with it at that moment.
“Deliver your message, please, Maeve,” I said aloud. I needed to know how bad this was, just how deep I’d gotten myself into - whatever the hell this was!
“The tale is long,” Maeve warned. “You would be far more comfortable, I suspect, if seated.”
I took her advice, but took the time to pull out her chair for her first. Like I said, when dealing with most flavours of the supernatural, but especially faeries, and especially the Queens of Faerie, courtesy counts - a lot. For whatever it was worth, the gesture earned me a smile and a slight inclination of Maeve’s head. Of course, given what I’ve already told you about her, you ought to know as well as I do that her response didn’t necessarily mean anything good, but anything that didn’t tick her off was a definite plus. Once I was seated, Maeve’s eyes unfocussed as she considered something, but her voice was clear enough as she began.
“For many an age, the race of mortals has held dominion over the earth - by and large,” she added. “For all our powers, for all that we are far greater than your kind, you yet outnumber us - and you slaughter us wherever you find us. For this reason, among many, the Unseelie Accords were signed, guaranteeing a common code among we others, among which was the promise that mortals should never know in full of our existence, never become aware of the predators that await them in the dark - because they have reached a point where we can no longer fully guarantee our survival, for all our superiority.”
Her green eyes flashed with bright malice, and her voice was cold and bitter as she continued, “Do not even dream that this state of affairs does not rankle deeply, wizard. We, many of us once gods, the handful of us that yet remain so, creators of worlds and races - condemned to hide in shadows. Not to lurk, as may be our wont, but to hide. We, who once brought terror to your kind by the merest whisper of a name, the faintest brush of a presence. No, this existence is unpleasant, by and large, if one is generous of spirit - and utterly intolerable, at its furthest extreme. Yet we have little choice, for the strength we once possessed, to truly forge the mortal world to our liking, is long since vanished . . . Or so it was believed.”
“In time, a plan was hatched - a ritual to restore the power of the demiurge, to create or recreate a world more to our liking, where the race of man would know its proper place - assuming it was allowed to exist at all. As the White God created this world in seven days, seven are chosen, champions of their kith and kin - warriors pure, proud, and puissant. In blood and battle, the right to gain godhead is chosen - and those who fall are sacrificed to the purpose, their life and power forfeit to the rite.”
Her stare was intense, even for her. “As the soul-drinker said, I am not Winter’s champion in this - nor can I be, for should I fall in battle, the power of the Winter Lady would not return to Mab, but be lost forever . . . And well you know the cost of such an imbalance among the Courts. For similar reasons, the Kings of the Vampire Courts and their heirs do not directly contest - but neither can their proxies be mere fodder, for weak powers among their kind might fail to properly provide for the ritual, and bring the wrath of the others upon them.” Her lips thinned into an icy smile. “To say nothing, of course, of rendering victory impossible. And they do wish to win . . . As do we.”
“And the vassals?” I asked. “How do they figure into this? Why am I one?”
“In sooth, I neither know nor understand the methods by which a vassal is chosen,” Maeve answered. “This contest has, until now, been Mab’s province alone. Yet she has told me that the nature of a vassal is always a human with the potential for magic of some form, that the blood spilled through them draws the power of the demiurge to the victor. The vassals are sacrifices, young wizard - bound and protected by a champion, and containers for the power of the rite. At their champion’s direction, the vassal will be the conduit by which they shall be anointed the demiurge - so no champion may do battle without one, and to lose one’s vassal is to lose the contest, and one’s life with it.” Her eyes sparkled like chips of ice. “By the same token, no vassal will long survive without a champion.”
“So the easiest way to win is to kill the vassal, because it will also kill the champion,” I muttered. “But the champions know that, so they’ll try to prevent that.”
“Aye,” Maeve agreed. “Some may choose to hide their vassals, others to arm them with magic or weapons, to surprise an unwary foe - but the binding which exists between champion and vassal thins with time and distance. They can be neither too far nor too long apart, lest the bond break - and the champion fail with it.”
“So a strong-willed vassal might try to escape, knowing it’s just a matter of time?”
“Indeed,” Maeve murmured, “though tell me truly, young wizard - was running from the soul-drinker your first intention?”
Hell, no. So, assume these vassals are under some form of control. Just about every participant mentioned had some form of it - the two faerie Courts, the four vampire Courts . . . I stopped.
“You said there were seven participants,” I said. “But you’ve only mentioned six.”
“The seventh varies, according to the Queen,” Maeve admitted. “It is rarely the same one twice. But truly, Shirou - can you think of no other entities in existence that would desire a world free of the rule, or even the mere presence, of humankind?”
I could think of half a dozen, just off the top of my head. The vampire and faerie Courts were just the major players, the largest and most organised. There were dragons, Denarians - OK, probably not the Denarians. Much as they’d like to join in, their involvement would almost guarantee the intervention of a Knight of the Cross - and the whole point was to work outside of that influence. For the same reason, no wizards of the White Council. Anything pro-human, or that at least had an interest in maintaining the status quo, would not be invited. It would defeat the whole purpose. But even some of the more human-friendly types might be tempted - old gods who weren’t all bad, just eager to be King of the Universe again. No, finding a seventh player in this game wouldn’t be hard at all.
“And so the terms of the rite have been given,” Maeve said formally, “and you are informed as to the nature of the task which stands waiting. By my Queen’s command, then, am I bid to ask you, Shirou Dresden: will you serve Winter in this war for Genesis, as vassal to our champion? Will you accept Winter’s sword as your weapon, to cut down those who oppose you, and be Winter’s hand in the shaping of the world we seek to create as our own?”
I froze. On some level, I had to have been expecting it - what else could she have been leading up to, once I understood what was going on? But while it seemed like the easiest thing in the world to agree to in some ways, it was very difficult in others. I mean, she’d basically offered me Winter’s protection, as much as it could, anyway. And the encounter tonight had already proven that I had “target” written all over me right now. Any champion that came across me would know what I was - and maybe the next one wouldn’t care that I couldn’t pull the power of a vampire or faerie along with my death. Maybe they’d just cripple me, find a champion without a vassal, and bind me so that they could complete the ritual then. It would be the smart thing to do. But what she was asking . . .
If this - this Genesis War - worked as advertised, the winning organisation would be able to make a world more to their liking. We’d go beyond gods and straight to the capitalised version, in terms of power. But the methodology was awfully sparse on information - what if this “demiurge” didn’t actually create anything, but just rewrote the existing paradigm? The world would become something more ideal for, say, the Black Court - a world with no sunlight, no garlic . . . Or the Winter Court - we could get that ice age that was threatening to happen, a couple of years back. The vassal that won the war, however it was done, could potentially be condemning billions of people to death, or a living hell.
And if I wanted to live, that vassal had to be me.
Damn it, I was in a hell of a box here. I could refuse Mab’s offer, but it would leave me defenceless. Leaving wasn’t really an option, either - if the mark could activate while I was in Chicago, half a freaking world away, the contestants wouldn’t likely feel constrained to just shrug and say “oh well” if I left Japan. They’d hunt me down to take me. Dad would protect me, or try, but he’d likely draw the Wardens’ attention . . . And that would be bad all on its own.
In my and Dad’s experience, the Wardens of the White Council tend to take the simplest path to solving problems - and they’re heavily into “scorched earth” solutions. If I went to them right now and told them what I knew, they’d kill me. Same thing if they found me in Chicago, fighting off the others. It’s the logical step - the easiest way to disrupt the ritual would be to kill the unclaimed vassal, bugger up the power feed. My willing participation in the ritual, or lack thereof, wouldn’t be an issue - it was just the fastest and simplest solution. It made perfectly logical sense, especially when weighed against the potential mayhem, and the fate of the aforementioned billions . . . Of course, I’d still be dead, but the world would presumably be safe - at least until this all started up again.
Damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell . . .
“Can I have time to consider it, please?” I said tiredly. “What you ask is no small undertaking - and difficult to accomplish. It may be beyond my powers or ken to do so, and I would hate to disappoint you.”
Entirely true, but worded that way, it didn’t sound like a “Hell, no.” Depending on how generous Maeve - or Mab, I supposed - was feeling, they might give me a little time, at least. Enough rope to see how easily I could hang, without their help.
Maeve’s smile widened, oddly. “I told the Queen you would wish such, and she is prepared to allow you a day’s span for consideration of our offer. I am pleased to find that my observations of your measure have been proven correct.”
I wasn’t - it meant Maeve had been observing me very closely, and was getting to know me entirely too well. No, that wasn’t a pleasing thought at all. But a day’s grace was better than I’d expected, though it still wasn’t much.
“Just long enough for me to get into trouble,” I muttered.
Maeve nodded. “Just so.” Her eyes gleamed, and the eerie smile turned very clearly predatory. “And now, young wizard, my geas is discharged - along with my portion of our bargain. It is time for you to fulfill yours.”
Additional Writer's Notes: A day later, and a couple of pages shorter than I'd like - but I hope that now, you have an idea of where I'm coming from. It's a bit of a twist, sort of, but the best I could do, given the Dresdenverse setup. So - should Shirou pick Winter, or shall I have him run across someone else?
Last edited by Kieran; January 3rd, 2013 at 03:35 PM.
Nice update, you really merged the seems pretty well.I am gonna stick with my black court vampire vote, though, without information on the champion's its difficult to do more then speculate on where each one goes. Wonder what Lara or Thomas know about the white's player.
Update, hooray~!
Nice chapter.
I say stick with white, for various reasons.
You mean wint........er...........sudden......thought...... ...hrm................cancel my vote for black
For now I'll vote for winter, just know that I may change that later.
As in later today.
Honestly I'd vote for Winter. For all that the Side bargain and such, other groups, like the White Court, are more insidious and can more directly control someone. The Sidhe are bound by rules along with the fact that they're located in another realm from the Earth.
I'm glad you think so - as I said, trying to figure out the nature of Servants in the Dresdenverse was driving me nuts since, by necromancy rules, Gil would clobber everybody - period. He's the oldest corpse, so he can contain the most power. And the hints I get from "Ghost Story" seem to imply that the reverse is true for spirits - the older the are, the weaker they are . . . Sort of, anyway. Have to read the whole book to see, I guess. But I originally wanted each Servant to represent a Court - so I finally figured, why not invert that, along with everything else? And here we are.
Again, I'm open to suggestions. The Red Court was Lancer (now dead, though his vassal is now out there somewhere), and the White Court is . . . Well. Should I tell you, would you care to guess, or would you prefer to wait and see?I am gonna stick with my black court vampire vote, though, without information on the champion's its difficult to do more then speculate on where each one goes. Wonder what Lara or Thomas know about the white's player.
But the rest are pretty much open.
If you do end up telling, put it in spoiler tags for the rest of us who want to wait~
I'd say Winter. Better the Devil you know, than the Devil you don't.
Summer, because they're the good guys trollololololololololololololololololololololololo lolol
Hope Rides With His Godly Ronin/Cowboy Brother In Law
himself, because nobody messes with him and his.
I shall serve thy cause, upon my honour, till thy death.-Avenger/Jester. Trinity Series.Destined Legacies, shamelessly rewriting it since 2010
When I go random.
Reply With Quote
