Archive of Our Own

“Remember how you said Rome wasn’t burned in a day?” Kariya hesitated at the door he was standing in front of. Lancelot had shut it firmly the night before, and the bounded field that was on the door was in full effect.

“Yes,” Lancelot was there, by his side just as he had been all day. 

It had been less than 24 hours and yet Kariya couldn’t quite imagine a world in which Lancelot wasn’t there by his side. After a year of almost complete solitude, he should have been used to emptiness. Somehow, now that there was someone he could rely upon, the concept of solitude had grown exponentially worse. To have him removed from his side would be worse than never having had him at all.

“Yeah think we can burn this fucker down in less than that? Like? A night maybe? That’d be rad as hell.” Kariya had lost control of his tongue entirely in the face of the horror of worms he was faced with again. He’d opened the door. They writhed in the pit, swelling slowly in a wave in order to try to crest the edge of the pit and get to him. The movement of the pit made him sick. Made his stomach churn. But there was no running from this. It needed to be done in order to move forward.

“Yes. We can do that.” It’s a quiet reassurance, and the pressure around them both seems to increase with Lancelot’s focus and his intent. It builds, like the stormfront. For a moment Kariya can swear he could almost smell ozone in the air as Lancelot pulls Secace out of its scabbard. “I must be the one to dispose of them. We will need the mana in the time to come. It is disgusting, and it tastes foul, but we will need it all the same.”

“Yeah, sure, I- wait- taste?” Kariya’s gaze was riveted onto the vile swelling of crest worms, but the way his servant had phrased that made him want to crawl out of his skin. And then possibly into his Servant’s arms again. He was about three seconds from making a bolt for the door, but he needed to see this done.

Lancelot was here. He was going to make sure that there was nothing that could harm him. Plus. He didn’t have a choice. He wanted to be ready to finish this by the time Sakura came down to see. She’d offered to clean up the dishes, which wouldn’t take more than a few minutes since he’d ordered them delivery. Most of it would be their cups and their utensils. They had scant few moments to prepare.

“Mana has a taste. It is individual to a person, and thus it has its own qualities. But your mood affects the quality and the taste of the mana. You taste like iron and saltwater. It is a good taste. Sakura tastes like- well. I do not know. The fear changed the taste. When I stepped in there to get her, all I could taste was spoiled blood and poisoned tears, and rotten fruit. It was horrifying. I would rather not have your mana dosed in fear.”

It was more than Lancelot had said collectively since the night before. It was enough to make his Master tear his gaze away from the biomass in the pit and put it back on his servant. Kariya watched the Knight shudder for just a moment, his armor shaking with him to produce a sound like something about to break apart. His Servant had endured this and would do so again for the sake of himself and Sakura. 

“Lancelot,” The name felt soft in his mouth again, something beautiful from days gone by. Something far too lovely for whatever they were doing right now, “You don’t need to do this again. If it’s going to be painful for you, I don’t want…”

“It is mana we cannot afford to waste. It is the combined mana of you and your very powerful girl, saved up over a year’s time. And it is more than that as well. We will need this, you and I, if we are to survive this war.” Lancelot was firm on the topic, but not harsh. It was the reality of the situation, nothing more. He whispered now with that same matter-of-fact tone as he had when he’d talked about the computers.

“You don’t deserve this!”

“Nor did you, Kariya.” Even in the face of his yelling, Lancelot was calm. He was calm and he turned to Kariya with sadness in his heart so strong it overwhelmed his anger and his fear. It wasn’t pity. Lancelot didn’t pity him for what had happened. But the sadness lingered, like a steadily growing icicle. It was the first time he had ever addressed his master by his given name. “This was done because of me. I shall take responsibility for it and I shall not make you bear the brunt of it. You should not suffer for me any more than you must.”

For a moment, Kariya was at a complete loss for words. He had never been good at verbalization. The Matou household had always been silent until the elders spoke first. Once he’d made it clear that he had no intention of being a mage, he’d been little more than dirt. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he tried to speak, and in a moment of blind instinct, reached for his servant. 

He had no idea what he was doing. Lancelot didn’t either. But he held no fear in his heart for whatever his Master might do. Kariya’s hand phased through his armor, right over his chest, and rested on the cloth of his shirt. The thin fabric was all that separated them, and though he was no longer alive, Kariya could feel the steady breaths and even thump of his Servant’s heart. 

For a moment, neither of them moved, terrified to disturb the fragile peace they’d fit together from the fragmented remains of what had been left of them both last night. And then Kariya looked up. 

Lancelot had changed. This was no longer the menacing suit of armor wreathed in billows of smoke. He was as Kariya had seen him the night before. A proud man with long lilac hair and vibrant violet eyes. The mist that shrouded him from sight was gone. The armor that was his only defense had vanished too. 

“I don’t want to make you do this,” His voice had fallen, to a whisper, to a plea.

“I swear to you, I shall not waste a moment of your suffering.”   Lancelot’s mouth moved with the words that he whispered into Kariya’s mind. He was trying to speak. 

It was a promise unlike anything else. Not a blanket statement, not one that promised no more suffering, but one that swore that the entirety of the last year of torment was not only worth it but it would get put to actual use. Lancelot was going to take every ounce of his pain and put it towards getting them both out of this mess. 

Very slowly, Lancelot reached forward and cupped his hand around Kariya’s cheek. It was calloused, and yet not rough. Strong and yet incredibly gentle. He was now more man than Knight, more person than weapon. He was laying everything that he was at Kariya’s feet. 

“Only for you. It’s yours to use. I trust it in your hands.” Kariya’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into Lancelot’s warm hands. “And- and I need you to save me a sample. A jar full. I asked Sakura to bring one down. I can’t get them out unless I know what I’m dealing with.”

He glanced over at the worms again and couldn’t find it in him to quell the shaking that started up again. It was miserable enough to have to be here again, let alone to have to be dealing with this. He wanted to wash his hands of this problem, but unfortunately for him the problem had burrowed into his skin and destroyed his body.

“Do not look, come here,” Lancelot acted, strong and sure as he felt the piercing fear shoot through his Master. He pulled him into his chest again, gathering him close just as he had the night before. This time there was no apprehension in Kariya’s willingness to be held. Lancelot had cradled one hand against the back of his skull and the other around his waist, holding him securely and putting his body between him and the thing that frightened Kariya. 

Kariya kept his hand right there, right over Lancelot’s heart. He held it there and let himself be sheltered for another moment. Let himself breathe and believe in the truth of Lancelot’s intention. The wash of vicious protectiveness that flooded through him from his servant was enough to make him brave. Enough to remind him why he was doing this. Why he’d done any of it at all. 

“We need to do this. I won’t sleep again until it’s taken care of.”

Lancelot’s anger burned through them both, making him shiver with the force of it even as the Knight rubbed a circle into his back in apology for it. Kariya understood it better now, understood how the emotions ebbed and crashed like waves, how Lancelot couldn’t truly control them or even restrain them. He was still a Berserker, through and through, even with the calm exterior. He sheltered down again against Lancelot for a moment. It was almost a relief to let someone else be angry about it for him. He’d been so resigned for so long that what little he had left was not enough.

“I know. I must stay and make sure I am able to absorb all the mana. You do not need to stay with me.” The hands tight against his back were a comfort. There was no pain in this, even though there could easily be. Lancelot could crush him right here, but he wouldn’t. 

“Father?” 

The word made Kariya jump, lurch back from Lancelot. His servant let him go, hands trailing off of him like water off of a coat. As soon as his hand left his servant’s chest, the mist coalesced, the armor reemerging from Lancelot as if he’d never been exposed in the first place. 

And as the armor came into being again, the softness that had lingered in Lancelot evaporated. The hurt, the resignation, and the intimate feeling of being shoved away replaced any fragment of whatever they had shared. It overwhelmed whatever steady flow of gentleness had come from him before. He was upset. He was hurting, and he had no ability to keep Kariya from feeling it. 

Shock wrote itself across Kariya’s face as he stared at Lancelot, now obscured in his mist again. He tried his best to soothe Lancelot’s flash of hurt with a silent apology, but he didn’t have time. She was rounding the corner. It wasn’t enough, and Kariya knew he’d give a proper apology later, but for now he needed to tend to Sakura. “We’re over here. Are you alright?” 

“I brought your jar.” The girl rounded the corner and held the jar clasped in her hands out to him. “I finished the dishes. Was there something else you needed?” 

“No, no, you’re welcome to do whatever you’d like so long as your homework is done. But I’m going to destroy everything in this room. Would you like to watch him destroy the worms?” Kariya asked, the question open enough that Sakura would hopefully feel comfortable refusing. It was important that she get closure but equally important for her to be able to walk away.

“Can I stay?” The girl was clearly cautious, afraid of being told no, but there was steel there. A backbone hidden under a meek outer shell. It was a look Lancelot had seen many times before, on young squires just starting to train. There was promise in those eyes and determination in those bones. 

Lancelot nodded, obvious and sharp where she could see it. He would do it. For her. And for his Master. Kariya reached for her and settled a gentle hand on her back. She seemed to tuck herself against him too, staring at the pit of worms with the same fear he had. 

“I’m sorry, Berserker, but could you-“

“I will get your sample. You will never go in there again.” The pang of hurt that had shot through him when Kariya had pushed him away hadn’t faded, but it didn’t change his gentle hands as he carefully took the jar from Kariya’s fingers. 

He walked away from Kariya before the other had a chance to protest and without hesitating, stepped into the crest worm pit. From the first moment he put his foot down, the smell of putrid viscera and rotten fruit assaulted him. There was something else there, deep underneath. Something like decayed flowers, but there was so little of it left. The others overwhelmed it almost in its entirety. 

Lancelot retched. He couldn’t help it. The cough escaped his throat before he could stop it. He’d consumed many foul and questionable things in his lifetime, but this was a special kind of hell. Any servant who willingly chose to eat this couldn’t be anything but the worst kind of evil. 

It didn’t stop him from doing his job. He unscrewed the lid of the jar, scooped a large handful of the horrible things inside, and sealed it shut. Tight. The holes that Sakura had poked in the top were far too small for them to escape. They wouldn’t be getting out. 

He climbed back out, shook the few worms off, stomped on the ones that made it out of the pit, and strode past Kariya to put the jar by the door. It would be safe there. He fetched the accelerant. Not very much of it. Several glass bottles of some clear alcohol that had cost far too much and far too little at the same time. They would get the place burning all too quickly.

 He set the bottles where they needed to go, blocked off any other potential worm exits, and drew his sword. Secace glittered, black as pitch and smelling of the clean-cut scent of gunpowder. It was a welcome change. 

His sword began to heat in his hands. It was unlike himself in many ways, but the vicious burning was the most obvious one. There was a reason that neither he nor his son had used Secace as their primary weapon. The sword burned. It was victorious, but it left little behind it scorched earth. 

Of course, times like these meant that scorched earth was preferable. 

He looked over his shoulder and asked for permission. Asked one last time for the go-ahead to light the fuse. 

Kariya gave him his own nod, still holding tight to Sakura. 

The sword crackled. It lit. Flames licked along its blade. And Lancelot flickered with it. The insect biomass ignited and the bottles exploded, one after the other. 

And the room burned.