Disclaimer: I know, I know, I have a backlog and ever since the war came to a halt I haven't been able to pick up any of my old stuff. Maybe, I'm just shaken up or something (hope to God it'll pass). In the meantime, not writing has made me miserable. Here's an idea that popped into my head on the way to university, I hope you'll like it. Expect regular updates on this, since I dont have much else to do at the moment. And also cause I'm starved for Fate content that isn't dogshit TL or AI 'assisted'.
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(A/N: Thanks to Martian_Cactus for beta-reading, he provided... valuable insight?)
Medea pushed herself along a wall, fleeing under the cover of night. Overhead, a starry sky blinked quietly, watching her solemnly. It was a fitting end for a witch, she thought to herself, ironic even.
She had been summoned to a distant time, and bound to the will of a cruel idiot who'd gloated to her about making needless sacrifices of children to fuel his craft, then thrown a hissy fit when she outdid him with none of the cruelty involved in his method. That was just her luck. Now, she'd die alone, in this dark and decrepit alleyway.
Well... at least she would have the satisfaction of having killed the man that summoned her. She had made him waste his command seals and then murdered the oaf while he blubbered about. She had destroyed his workshop, and freed the children he wished to sacrifice. That would have to be enough. Even if the exchange left her injured and deprived of mana.
Still, Medea grit her teeth, and clenched the fist she was propping herself up with. It was unfair. It was so terribly unfair. Why were the gods so cruel to her? In life, they had blindly bound her to a similar fool and turned her on her own blood, then on hapless children, and when she was sapped of all, even that accursed fool abandoned her.
She faced the same here, with a lot less of the Gods' direct cruel humour involved.
They were probably having a good laugh at her expense, as before.
Suddenly, she heard the rushed steps of someone running, and then an abrupt shout.
"Darn it, you runt! Where the hell did you run off to?!"
She met his gaze the same time he found hers. His grey eyes seemed fluorescent under the pale moonlight, and he cocked his head... probably confused about her garb. It didn't quite mesh in... but then, neither did he.
He wore an oddly patterned red shirt over a pair of navy jeans and thick, high leather boots. A strange hat she didn't quite recognise rested on his head. The language he'd spoken wasn't this country's either. But, his apparent confusion at her form made her think she could ask him for his help... until her eyes found the crimson pattern burnt into the back of his hand.
Two folded wings on either side of a blade pointed outwards.
Command seals, she realised.
A master, then.
Like the one who had summoned her. A grim realisation came next, he would kill her the moment her nature dawned on him. They were in a war, and hapless as she was now, she was still a servant, a figure of legend. He most certainly had his own, and one that likely far surpassed her in her current state.
She thought of resisting, attacking him... but there was no point in doing so. Any third-rate magi could kill her as she was. She was hurt, and lacking in magical energy. That tended to happen when one had no Master. The supply of magical energy was the entire reason many like her even needed a contract.
She trembled when he moved his hand to his hat, and closed her eyes. The expected strike never came. There was no pain and no familiar sense of her own warm blood wetting her skin. When moments passed, she grew frustrated and opened one of her eyes to look at her would-be aggressor.
"Go on... do your worst." She managed, weak, but still defiant, in her own way.
He became even more confused. "Do my what now? Ma'am, I just wanted to ask you a question. It seemed like you were goin' through something so I didn' wanna bother you."
"What?"
"You seen a blonde lass 'round these parts?" He questioned politely. Raising his hand to his chest, "About wee tall? Nasty mouth and a bit of a tendency towards eatin' just about everything?"
He was a Master. He knew what she was. He had to know, even a child would know. Why didn't he care? She was his enemy.
To her surprise, he just tipped his hat. "Well, I'll be getting out of your hair now, ma'am."
She even thought he was making some sick joke, or some kind of ploy, but no, he just turned around and started to leave.
Was he stupid or something?
The war they were fighting was one for the Holy Grail. The victor would obtain a wish, whatever they desired. Why was he not making it easier for himself by just killing her and getting done with it?
Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the man suddenly stopped. He spun about, faster than any human had the right to, and the magical energy swirled, taking a strange shape in the hand he held out, the other resting calmly on his belt.
A weapon?
"So you aren't stupi-"
Bang.
A flash of light, a loud noise, and the smell of burnt cloth rushed into her nostrils. His projectile, whatever it was, had singed her cloak she realised. But again, as before, no pain came. Before she could question it, he fired again.
Bang. Bang.
"What on God's green Earth are those disgusting things?"
Medea cautiously glanced over her shoulder. Familiars. He had shot three familiars. Vile insect-like creatures with wings, and bladed tails. They made strange clicks and screeches as they faded into dust.
Evidently, they weren't his. No magi would waste his own familiars. Especially not in this age, they had to come from someone else but... she had missed them. Somehow, she had missed them.
Her legend was that of a witch, a caster.
And, this... man, had not.
"I'd have noticed 'em if they were on me, ma'am." He pointed out calmly.
Some magus was keeping an eye on her. That was par for the course. As for this one... She narrowed her eyes. He seemed harmless, or he was such a good actor that his malice escaped even her eyes. That felt unlikely.
She hoped he would just leave and leave her to fade quietly as ever.
It was ordinary for her to betray and be betrayed.
It was then that Medea, the Witch of Betrayal, found herself truly surprised.
"Oh darn it, I'd have to be a sissy if I didn't help out someone like you..." He stepped over to her, kneeling on one knee. "and mama ain't raised no sissy."
What?
She lost her words when he took her in his arms.
Why?
Maybe, he just didn't know who she was, she reasoned. That would have to be enough for now.
"Let's you and me enter a contract. Mine done ran off anyhow."
Oh.
He knew.
Why then? What ulterior motives did he have? Why couldn't she figure them out?
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Hope you enjoyed.
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