Several hours passed since training's end. Rin had returned with her things and finally satisfied the Primarch's curiosity. Though she couldn't say exactly how Shirou saw Firebrand's history, she offered a hypothesis. Every person, at least in this world, has a special origin deep in the soul. So-called Origin. From it, as the name implies, flow character, thoughts, and worldview. Only a youth with a weapon-related Origin could explain it. Fulgrim was amazed for the first time at what mages could do. And Rin kept lamenting, for revealing one's Origin was rare and granted power just below True Magic. And this, even partially, a third-rate magus had done.
But all complaints faded, and now Masters and Servants simply rested. Shirou especially. Once the trance passed, his body sounded alarm so loudly the teacher had to drag him to the living room, where he remained. The Primarch forbade bed rest, for fighting exhaustion was useful and could save him more than once. The day passed normally until one moment. Abruptly, clouds covered the sky, a storm began with pouring rain. But the strangest was the piercing chill, uncharacteristic of mild Japanese winters.
"This isn't a magical phenomenon; I sense no prana in the surroundings."
Such was Rin's verdict, as the only one who could sense the unnatural weather conditions. At first, everyone had expected some continuation of the strange event, but nothing happened. At some point, the Masters and Servants stopped tormenting themselves and simply got on with their business. Rin locked herself in her new room and began creating magical accumulators with triple the determination, even though the chances of success were slim; however, even one stone could buy extra time for the Primarch's transformation. The estate's owner was doing household chores. After all, a day off was no reason to slack off. So said the Phoenician when he felt the boy had relaxed too much. And he himself and Artoria were simply sitting at the table, reading and drinking tea respectively. A perfectly fine time, everyone thought. But at that very moment, the "continuation" of the strange rain was walking down the street.
Graceful bare feet moved lightly over the pavement. The ceaseless streams of water didn't bother their owner in the slightest. And she, a young girl in a short snow-white dress, didn't notice the bad weather at all. Anyone who saw her would take her for something otherworldly. Her slender figure seemed to flow from one movement to the next. She didn't seem to be walking, but floating, her gait was so light. A beautiful face was adorned with an unwavering smile. It held anticipation for something she had waited for a very long time. And now she stood at the gates of the Emiya Estate. From the sharp turn, her ash-white hair flared up, cascading like a blinding wave over her delicate, fragile shoulders. And for a moment, her pointed ears became visible, betraying her nonhuman nature. Impatience now permeated the beautiful maiden's body language. Her equally beautiful lilac-colored eyes stared at the gates separating her from her desire.
"Finally… we'll meet again…" A sensual voice that caressed the ear spread outward. The rain itself paused for a moment, as if not daring to drown out her voice with its foul noise.
With barely any effort, she vaulted over the fence that kept her from the one she had once lost. And now, the beauty, not a drop of moisture on her, quietly knocked on the door. The knock was faint, but she knew her presence had been noticed. After a time no longer than a minute, it opened. The red-haired youth, who grumbled faintly, stepped aside.
"Hello, how can I hel-p-p…" He couldn't finish the phrase, his mouth agape in shock at the sight of the stranger. The young man had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.
But the guest didn't linger her gaze on the "doorman"; he was utterly uninteresting to her. No, she had come for another. The one and only worthy of her. Worthy to be by her side. Truly. Passing the frozen Shirou, she headed where He was. The short path to the living room felt like an eternity, which was nonsense for one like her. And there, through the open door, platinum hair gleamed. The Primarch had already stood to check on whoever had turned Emiya into a stammering idiot even more than usual. The moment he saw the intruder, the girl pressed against the man's chest in a lightning movement that was barely perceptible even to Servants. And in the next second, Fulgrim, already stunned, faced a new trial.
Tender palms cupped his cheeks, and softer petal-like lips sealed his. A soft tongue, like a playful little beast, frolicked in the Primarch's mouth. Sweetness flooded in like a tidal wave, clouding Fulgrim's mind. It intoxicated, preventing coherent thought, and only the Oolitic Kidney helped dispel the enchantment. The organ that purifies blood of the strongest toxins began working overtime. And it worked; the sweet saliva of the stranger that had entered his bloodstream stopped affecting the Emperor's son. The moment it did, his hands roughly shoved the brazen woman away. The man didn't control his strength, so if a normal human had been in her place, they would have been snapped in half. But she merely stepped back slightly and looked at the one who had rejected her in confusion.
"What happened, Fulgrim? Aren't you glad to see me?" Her voice dripped with unconcealed bitterness, as if the Primarch's action had broken her heart. Her moistened eyes were equally tragic, making one doubt the rightness of his actions. The girl's fluffy lashes fluttered in sympathy.
"Who the hell are you?!" Wary, he stepped back, something between a shout and a growl escaping the Primarch's tongue, which still tasted of exquisite sweetness.
"You… don't recognize me?" The girl widened her eyes in surprise; they were so similar to those of the one standing before her. "That's… wonderful! It means you're real. True! This is even better than I hoped!" Unable to restrain herself any longer, the maiden stepped toward the Primarch again. She extended her hands, thin as willow branches. So perfect that one would never want to let them go. "You're not that empty shell; you're the one…" But before she could finish, the one who had merely observed until now appeared before her: Artoria.
"You'd better name yourself, or we won't tolerate your rudeness any longer." The queen stated firmly, her beauty no less than the intruder's, just not so flashy. No, it whispered quietly, audible only to one who froze and held their breath.
"And who are you? Get lost; you're in the way." The white-haired girl's demeanor changed with stunning abruptness. Eyes that had been ready to shed tears now coldly fixed on the golden-haired one. The threat was obvious. "Fulgrim, I'm truly happy to learn this news! Now I can be with you again, until the end of time." She pressed her hands to her chest, trying to calm her raging heart.
"Last time I'm asking. Who. Are. You?" His body language said he was ready to destroy the girl if she hesitated even a moment.
"I am the one who will fulfill all you desire; just ask, and I'll make all your dreams reality, for I am your lady…" The beauty purred in a languid, tender voice. And a realization pierced the Primarch's mind, causing… a shudder.
"That… can't… be…" With each word, he backed away. Step by step. In shock, he didn't even notice Rin and Shirou rushing into the room; the latter had come to his senses.
"It can, for I am here, before you. And now, it will be this way forever… my beloved champion." Step by step, the girl approached the retreating man. His face took on an expression unfit for one called the Phoenix. It was fear, strong enough that even the Primarch couldn't overcome it. Moving backward, seeing nothing but eyes promising all the pleasures of the world, the proud son of the Master of Mankind stumbled, not even realizing over what.
Fulgrim didn't notice he'd fallen to the floor, still scrambling back. And the one making him do so slowly knelt and crawled toward him on her neat hands. But suddenly, there was no more path; his back hit the table. And now, the nightmare in the flesh drew closer. With unhurried grace, the self-proclaimed lady climbed onto the man and sat on his lap. Then, pressing her entire body against him—its softness making one dissolve into it—she once more enveloped Fulgrim's lips. He was powerless to resist. Those in the room were too shocked to do anything. The openly pitiful sight of this War's Archer stunned them.
"Ah, how joyful to feel you through a living body. I had to try very hard to enter this world." She ran her tongue over her lips the moment she broke the kiss. She pressed harder into the firm body beneath her. "The moment I felt you return, flap your wings again, I could no longer endure it. And even so, you had to wait. Please, don't be angry with me. I promise, I'll earn your forgiveness."
The interlude ended, and the kiss resumed. The Primarch's eyes began to roll back; even his mighty physiology couldn't resist for long. In the corner, the green-eyed warrior finally stirred. She didn't understand what was happening, but one thing she knew: the one before her was an enemy. In a magical flash, her hands grasped her weapon, already raised over the temptress. But…
"Don't interfere!" The cry that pierced everything around hurled Artoria back. "They're trying to interrupt us again, my prince… Please, stop looking at me like that; it hurts to see fear in your eyes." Though not touching his lips, the girl whispered these words right into the Primarch's mouth, her palms on his temples. He, finally gathering himself, asked a question. Strength had fled his body, so his once-mighty voice was barely audible.
"Why… me? Don't you have… enough… followers?" Afterward, the girl giggled. Despite Fulgrim realizing who was before him, he couldn't feel revulsion knowing her nature. She was too beautiful. And now, finishing her laugh, the girl pouted slightly.
"Don't offend me with such thoughts. From birth, I bestowed favors on many, but I gave myself to no one, for none were worthy… until you entered my temple, and, you know… in essence… you took my first kiss… and I still want more!" The tongues of two beings alien to this world entwined again. Fulgrim couldn't tell how long it lasted. His body flooded with boundless fear alongside boundless pleasure. But he managed one more question.
"Why… did you call me… prince?" His clouded mind could no longer focus on surroundings. Before his eyes remained only… his lady.
"What do you remember last?" Understanding her dear Primarch wanted an answer, the girl paused the delight. But her palms continued exploring the long-forgotten body.
"Death… Ferrus."
"So little?! Though not surprising; that was the last moment of your full life. Don't worry, my Phoenix; I'll tell you everything… later." Once more, she silenced Fulgrim, thinking too. "For now… we'll be together… until the end of time… no need to rush."
The words came in bursts, as the guest couldn't sate herself on the desired man. And he understood nothing anymore. Simply dissolving in bliss. Thoughts, attachments, reason—all faded to the background. Images from memory flashed past his eyes and vanished into oblivion. Somewhere, he heard Artoria's voice trying to reach him, but it didn't matter. His lady was back. Nothing else was needed. Brothers' faces, even his father's, blurred. Emperor's Children's legionaries' names became inaccessible. Fulgrim peered at his sons, whose images slipped away—sons no longer kin. And on each chest was an eagle. The golden bird granting confidence and hope. A symbol of their lord's faith in the Third Legion's loyalty and devotion.
Then, thoughts that had accompanied him for long years scorched the Primarch's mind. He was His chosen, for the eagle adorns his armor. The waters of pleasure receded for a moment, as if fearing the power hidden in those words. And the next didn't let his faithful heart be enveloped again. On the path to perfection, I know success… Born to serve Father. They blazed through the Phoenix's entire being with the light of truth. His mind gained clarity unattainable before. But even now, the Primarch's mind wasn't pure; still, it sufficed.
"Ah-ah-ah… You're so fierce… it turns me on." She whispered in his ear, the girl whose belly Firebrand pierced. "The pain you inflict on me… is so sweet."
"Disappear…" The Primarch barely moved his lips.
"What?" Bewilderment settled in eyes that had held only passion.
"Begone!" Fire racing along the blade spread to Fulgrim's arm, reaching his collarbone. And its color turned silver.
A wave of flame hurled the dark lady against the wall. She shook the house's rafters, and now, barely rising, saw her beloved prince breathing raggedly, trembling all over. Though he had overcome her charms, the all-consuming fear hadn't left his spirit. She finally understood. He saw her as a monster. A vile creature. The girl smiled sadly and addressed the man who couldn't even stand, in a tender voice.
"You're not ready to accept me yet, are you? Very well, then I'll give you time to think. Just know, I only want to give happiness to my beloved Phoenix. Remember that… please…"
Her body dissolved into the air. Finally, she was gone. The Primarch, no longer able to hold the tension, lowered his arm from which the blade was already fading. Sprawled on the floor, he tried to catch his breath. The horror hadn't released him. For one of the four Chaos Gods had come to him. Slaanesh herself, god of dark pleasures. The one who turned the noble Primarch into her cultist and aided the fall of the others, along with the other three of the great quartet.
"Fulgrim… what… happened?" Artoria's voice snapped the man from reverie. He opened eyes squeezed shut and looked at the warrior. She had no idea how to act or what to think.
"That… I… I can't say. I need… to be alone."
Without waiting for a reply, the man—finding strength from who-knows-where—stood and strode quickly to the exit. Once on the street, he launched into the air, the force of his push cratering the pavement. That was all the Masters and Servant who ran after saw. The Phoenix had flown away, bound by fear. Fear he couldn't conquer.
The Primarch walked as if in a delirium. Thoughts hadn't calmed, raging and swirling. Limbs barely felt, numbed by the unnatural rain's chill and fear of the one who had once made him her toy. And now the past threatened to repeat. She wouldn't let him go; she would take what was hers, as always. Now the Dark Prince had given him a drop of time, but who knew when he'd return. And Fulgrim didn't know how to save himself. Despair no less than what he'd felt holding his brother's head in his hands engulfed his soul. Even after falling into oblivion, he couldn't find long-awaited peace. Regrets tore at his heart, and now a Chaos God knocked at the door. "What should I do?"
Raindrops pelted the Primarch's face and body but didn't stop his steps. In futile hope of escape, he moved in an unknown direction. Hours passed, and the sky remained shrouded in clouds through which no light pierced. Or perhaps the sun had set and night fallen. It didn't matter; darkness clouded the Phoenix's vision either way. Trembling pursued him relentlessly. No power or will could help him face the fear of inevitable doom. In every rustle, every shadow, he saw his nightmare.
The beautiful, fair-haired maiden so like him. From the splendor haunting her image in the Primarch's eyes, he felt nausea. The lingering sweetness aided that. Her lips' taste was better than anything. More pleasant than any dish or wine, so much that at consciousness's edge, Fulgrim craved its source again. Every shadow, every rustle heralded the dark goddess's new arrival, but she didn't come, making it worse. Waiting for death is worse than death itself; now the Phoenician understood those words fuller than ever.
With each step, his legs showed more reluctance to move. Every muscle, like its owner, weakened and lost will to exert. At that moment, the man heard faint breathing, barely discernible even to his hearing, plus the rain's ceaseless roar. Shuddering, Fulgrim whirled toward the sound. It seemed She had come for his soul. But no.
In an alley where water pooled, atop a pile of junk, lay a snow-white bundle. "Kitten?" The little creature breathed raggedly and weakly. Cold pierced its body, wet fur worsening it. Death was near. Now, the Primarch wouldn't have spared it a glance; he had no time for helping others. But something made him approach the kitten. On weak legs, he knelt and stared intently at the tiny thing.
"Aren't you… afraid?"
The kitten's blue eyes were half-closed, but even so, they held something incredible. They gazed clearly at Fulgrim, showing no fear or plea for help. Only strength. He knew he would die. Whether abandoned or motherless, he knew death came. And now, eyes barely able to see gazed fearlessly at death's face. Her icy hands already gripped his neck. But he didn't turn away, despite utter powerlessness to change fate. Weak paws couldn't even lift his body, let alone find shelter. Yet that didn't plunge him into despair.
The Primarch's hands gently lifted and pressed him to his chest. Warmth, joined by two hearts' rhythm, gave the kitten a chance to live. The man himself looked to the sky, a patch visible amid concrete walls. The firmament remained veiled in heavy clouds. Clearly, such weather heralded the Ruinous Powers' arrival in this world, and who knew when the sun would shine on earth's dwellers again. Fulgrim lowered his gaze to the kitten, gratitude in his eyes.
The sight of such resilience moved the Primarch. Fate mocked him again, but good-naturedly now. Showing him one powerless to save himself yet unbroken in spirit. In that tiny body beat a true lion's heart. The creature, fitting in the Phoenix's palm, showed more valor than the son commanding a thousand stars. Fulgrim laughed inwardly.
"How pathetic I've become… the moment She appeared, my soul cowered in a corner."
All-consuming fear began receding, yielding to resolve. Did men fear when ascending to stars under the Emperor's banner? Fear pain or death? No. Their fiery hearts knew no fear of cosmic void's dark. Simple soldiers died by thousands but never retreated. They met death head high, laughing in its face at the end. And Fulgrim himself, lord of the Emperor's Children Legion, had curled into a ball. Crushed by terror, futilely seeking escape. He trembled before his "lady."
Trembled.
Throwing back his head, the Phoenix laughed. How insignificant he'd seemed before Slaanesh, Shirou, Rin, and Artoria struck him as life's most ironic thing. The turmoil past memories wrought. How he'd treated this new chance, watching indifferently. He'd even fought without enthusiasm, though before, he'd show full mastery and might to any threatening the Phoenix's honor. Laughter didn't stop, only grew. The man raised the kitten to eye level. Purple met azure.
"Thank you, little friend. Your strength of will showed me how far I've fallen." Indeed, he fell not when betraying all he'd fought for, but when surrendering. Forgetting who he was and the responsibility on his shoulders. "Now I owe you. You could say you saved my life, and in return, I'll do the same." The tiny body hid under his shirt, warmed by the Primarch's hot skin. "From now on, you'll be called Rylanor, like the one dubbed the Unyielding."
Contrary to artistic tropes, the sun didn't break through clouds as the hero overcame weakness. No, rain still poured relentlessly, but now hopeless dark was dispelled by purple fire blazing in the Phoenix's eyes.
Someone knocked at the Emiya Estate's door again, but now Artoria opened it, vigilantly guarding the approaches. Rin had warned her Servant approached, so the warrior didn't summon her blade. In the doorway stood Fulgrim, soaked to the skin. His long platinum hair clung, hanging heavily to his neck. But that didn't concern Artie much. She sensed something had changed in her acquaintance. Clearly, he'd conquered the fear obvious to all. But now his gaze was clearer than before. And that look… suited him far better. As if only thus he should be. Proud and resolute.
"Artoria…"
"You… pulled yourself together?"
The Primarch smiled and nodded confidently. Without words, the queen stepped aside slightly, bidding him enter at last. Sheltered from the downpour, Fulgrim pulled the white bundle from his chest and set it on his shoulder. "Kitten?" Moments to reach the living room, where two hearts beat: Shirou and Rin. The latter, seeing the Archer, also noted changes. Before the strange incident, one couldn't say he was genuine. As if the Primarch hid behind a mask of good nature. But now, she saw the true Phoenix.
"Rin, circumstances have changed. Now… we must claim the Grail."
"We… what?"
"The one you saw today is too powerful to fight with our current strength. The only chance is the Grail's power." All were stunned by the statement. "And all who stand in my way…" The Primarch's voice finally gained the firmness befitting the Master of Mankind's son.
"…will burn."
***
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