Categories > Anime/Manga > Fate/stay night > Toy Soldiers
Disclaimers: characters belong to Type-Moon; translations my own. Anything that wasn't explicitly stated in the games was liberally made up, as I don't own artbooks or whatever. My take on Shirou may also be slightly AU since I wanted so very badly to smack the original with a rolled-up newspaper any number of times. And English needs to have furigana, it does.
I. Lost Avalon
Shirou woke to the sound of cheering. As he sat up on the grass, he saw rows of tents and stalls, people in brightly-dyed clothing weaving between them, and pennants of many colors fluttering in the sharp spring breeze above.
The murmur of excited voices reaches his ears, and the words themselves broke through his confused daze.
the new king---
----save us
----damned Saxons
----sir Ector's son
sword in the stone---
Shirou's heart jumped in anticipation, while his mind ran through a thousand variants of could-it-be it-can't-be and settled for action in lieu of thought. He followed the flow of the crowd, squeezing awkwardly past a variety of strange faces babbling in a foreign tongue that he could somehow still comprehend. In the excitement nobody paid attention to him as he slipped around extravagant gowns and edged past armored bodies.
She stood on the grassy moor of heath and heather, ornate blade chased with gold and lapis lazuli held carefully in her hands like a burden. The triumph and wonder of the occasion belonged to the crowd of knights and ladies surrounding her, a respectful distance cleared between them and their new king. Even the old magician who had given her her crown had retreated into the circle of celebrants.
There was no triumph in the new king, and Shirou remembered again her quiet dedication. When she'd first spoken about her past, and related her understanding of the burden she'd carried, he hadn't wanted to believe her. And now he had certain evidence that she had known, from day one, exactly the weight of the duties that she had accepted.
Before he knew what he was doing, Shirou had pushed past the last of the spectators and stumbled into the clearing that, by unspoken consensus, had been left open around the king.
The entire crowd stilled, staring at the upstart squire who'd dared disturb the sanctity of the circle. Feeling his ears burning with self-consciousness, Shirou strode across the last few meters of ground before he could lose his nerve and run away. Up close, he could see all of the details that were hidden from the onlookers by wizard's glamour, aura of strength masking a girl half a head smaller than even his unimposing frame. Her delicate features and wide green eyes were just as he remembered, and even though her hair was not yet of a length to braid, it still sported the cowlick that she'd never managed to tame.
She stared at him, the strange boy in funny clothes who wasn't where he was supposed to be. And feeling like a sheepish moron, he smiled at her and whispered her name, to reassure her that he was a friend.
To let her know that, this time, she would not be alone.
*
I. Lost Avalon
Shirou woke to the sound of cheering. As he sat up on the grass, he saw rows of tents and stalls, people in brightly-dyed clothing weaving between them, and pennants of many colors fluttering in the sharp spring breeze above.
The murmur of excited voices reaches his ears, and the words themselves broke through his confused daze.
the new king---
----save us
----damned Saxons
----sir Ector's son
sword in the stone---
Shirou's heart jumped in anticipation, while his mind ran through a thousand variants of could-it-be it-can't-be and settled for action in lieu of thought. He followed the flow of the crowd, squeezing awkwardly past a variety of strange faces babbling in a foreign tongue that he could somehow still comprehend. In the excitement nobody paid attention to him as he slipped around extravagant gowns and edged past armored bodies.
She stood on the grassy moor of heath and heather, ornate blade chased with gold and lapis lazuli held carefully in her hands like a burden. The triumph and wonder of the occasion belonged to the crowd of knights and ladies surrounding her, a respectful distance cleared between them and their new king. Even the old magician who had given her her crown had retreated into the circle of celebrants.
There was no triumph in the new king, and Shirou remembered again her quiet dedication. When she'd first spoken about her past, and related her understanding of the burden she'd carried, he hadn't wanted to believe her. And now he had certain evidence that she had known, from day one, exactly the weight of the duties that she had accepted.
Before he knew what he was doing, Shirou had pushed past the last of the spectators and stumbled into the clearing that, by unspoken consensus, had been left open around the king.
The entire crowd stilled, staring at the upstart squire who'd dared disturb the sanctity of the circle. Feeling his ears burning with self-consciousness, Shirou strode across the last few meters of ground before he could lose his nerve and run away. Up close, he could see all of the details that were hidden from the onlookers by wizard's glamour, aura of strength masking a girl half a head smaller than even his unimposing frame. Her delicate features and wide green eyes were just as he remembered, and even though her hair was not yet of a length to braid, it still sported the cowlick that she'd never managed to tame.
She stared at him, the strange boy in funny clothes who wasn't where he was supposed to be. And feeling like a sheepish moron, he smiled at her and whispered her name, to reassure her that he was a friend.
To let her know that, this time, she would not be alone.
*
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