Fate/Juggernaut

===Godrick===

Godrick awoke to a sharp pain throbbing in his chest. His vision swam as he slowly regained consciousness, the world around him hazy and indistinct. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint smell of old wood and fish. He tried to move but was immediately struck by the sensation of weakness flooding his limbs. His body felt heavier than usual, as though it had been drained of all vitality.

He winced, reaching out to steady himself, only to feel something unfamiliar, something cold and metallic. His eyes snapped open, his pulse quickening as he saw the silver arm. It was attached seamlessly to his shoulder, the cold metal gleaming under the soft light of the room. It was real. His hand, now made of metal, was whole, the intricate mechanisms whirring with a faint hum of energy.

"You're awake." a voice called softly.

He turned his head and saw Jalter sitting nearby, a concerned but almost affectionate smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her eyes were bright, but there was something unsettling about the way she looked at him—almost possessive.

"Alter…" Godrick rasped, his throat dry. He winced as he attempted to sit up, his body protesting at the effort.

"Careful," she said, her voice low and soothing. She reached out to help him, her fingers brushing against his blackened arm, the one still "flesh and blood". Her touch was gentle but laced with something deeper—a tenderness that bordered on affection.

Godrick recoiled instinctively, his body tensing at the contact. He tried to hide the discomfort in his expression, but it was no use. "I don't need help," he said quietly, his voice firm but weak. He could feel his emotions boiling beneath the surface, a distant ache that gnawed at him.

Jalter's brow furrowed, her gaze softening slightly. She noticed the tension in his body and withdrew her hand, though her eyes never left his. "You're still recovering. I'm just trying to make sure you're alright."

Godrick's throat tightened. He could feel the weight of her gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to meet it directly. His thoughts were consumed by one person: Jeanne. Even after all that had happened, after everything they had fought for and survived, it was still Jeanne who consumed him—her strength, her quiet resolve, her courage.

He looked away from Jalter, focusing on his new right arm, trying to ignore the sudden ache in his chest.

"What… happened?" He asked, sitting upright.

Jalter hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with something unreadable before she answered softly.

"You passed out during the battle, and I pulled you from the battlefield into the ocean. We washed up here and… found someone who had been expecting you.

"Expecting me?" Godrick asked, his voice laced with confusion.

Suddenly, the cloth covering the entrance to the fishing hut was swept aside, and Morgan appeared in a dull black robe.

His gaze froze upon her. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes meeting him with a quiet intensity.

"Mother Morgan?" His voice was barely a whisper as he slowly stood from the table, the strength in his legs still uncertain before collapsing to one knee.

Morgan remained silent, her expression unreadable, as always. Yet, without a word, she closed the distance between them and wrapped him in a gentle embrace. They hadn't seen each other in what felt like lifetimes.

She tightened her hold around his neck, drawing him closer into the warmth of her bosom. The feeling of her embrace was so familiar yet distant, anchored him in a way he hadn't realized he needed. He wrapped his one good arm around her waist, holding her as if she might slip away at any moment.

"It's so good to see you," she whispered softly, her voice laced with both relief and tenderness.

He leaned into her, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "It's good to see you too," he managed, his voice thick with emotion. A wave of gratitude and pain surged through him, and for a brief moment, he let himself surrender to the feeling of her presence.

She smiled faintly, the edges of her lips curling up in a way that seemed both sad and knowing. "You were always an overly emotional child," she said fondly, her fingers gently brushing the back of his head, soothing him as she had done countless times before.

He chuckled softly, though it was strained. "It's been a hard day," he said, his voice barely a whisper, the weight of the events pressing down on him.

Morgan's gaze softened, though her expression remained composed. "I know," she murmured, her hand still resting lightly on his back. "But you're here now. We'll face it all together."

Godrick held on a little tighter, feeling the rawness of the moment. The world outside could wait.

===

"The procedure was a success. The arm is yours now. We… we weren't sure it would work, but you pulled through."

Godrick's hand instinctively went to the silver arm, running his fingers along its smooth surface, feeling the cool metal and the intricate mechanical joints beneath his touch. There was no denying it now. It wasn't just attached—it was part of him. But the weight of it, both literal and metaphorical, settled heavily on his shoulders. He flexed the fingers, testing the movement, feeling the faint hum of energy that buzzed from the mechanical tendons beneath the skin.

His heart quickened with a mixture of awe and unease. It was incredible, a marvel of engineering and magic, but it wasn't his. Not yet. He had to learn how to wield it. Control it. He could feel the power throbbing in the metal veins, a potential he hadn't even begun to tap into.

"What happens now?" he asked.

Morgan watched him carefully, her expression unreadable as she observed his movements. She could see the conflict in his eyes—the awe of something so powerful, but also the trepidation of something so foreign. It was a new beginning, yes, but also a heavy responsibility.

She stepped closer, her voice steady, yet tinged with an understanding that only time could bring. "Now you learn to use it," she said, her gaze flickering down to the silver arm, still gleaming under the low light of the room. "It's more than just an arm. It's a conduit of unimaginable power, but it demands your focus, your will. You'll have to shape it, bend it to your needs."

Godrick flexed his fingers again, the metal joints moving fluidly, but the sense of unfamiliarity still lingered. He felt as though the arm was still fighting for dominance, as if it was waiting for him to command it, yet it remained a stranger to him.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this," he murmured, his voice tinged with doubt. "What if I fail? What if I can't control it?"

Morgan's expression softened slightly. "You won't fail," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "You can't fail. Jeanne and the rest need you."

Godrick looked to Jalter, who sat quietly before he lowered his gaze, staring at the arm as if it held all the answers he needed. The weight of his new reality pressed down on him, but he also felt a surge of determination. He had fought through so much, and now, it seemed, he was being given a chance to fight with something greater, something that might be able to change everything.

"Will it be enough to stop my Alter?" he asked, more to himself than to Morgan.

She gave a quiet, knowing sigh. "That, dear boy, is up to you."

Godrick was silent for a long moment, the hum of the arm still buzzing in his mind. He could feel the power growing, pulsing with his every thought. He wasn't sure what the future held, but one thing was clear: this was no longer just about survival. It was about becoming something more.

After a long pause, he met her eyes again, a silent resolve settling in. "I'll make it mine."

===

The fishing village lay quiet behind them as Godrick, Morgan, and Jalter made their way toward the rugged coastline. The sound of crashing waves echoed in the distance, a reminder that they were heading away from the shelter of civilization and into the untamed wild. The road was narrow, flanked by wild grasses and the occasional weathered wooden fence. The sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the three figures as they walked.

Godrick's new arm, the Silver Arm—Airgetlám—hung at his side, its smooth surface gleaming in the fading light. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was waiting for something. The hum of energy beneath his skin had subsided somewhat since he'd awoken, but it was still there, a constant reminder of the raw power now integrated into his body. It felt… alive.

"Are you sure about this?" Jalter asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern as she glanced at Godrick. "Testing it like this, out here?"

"We need to know what it can do," Morgan replied, her tone steady and resolute. "This isn't just a weapon. It's part of him now. The longer he hesitates, the more control it will take. Godrick needs to make it his own."

Godrick glanced at her, feeling the weight of her words, but also the pressure that came with them. His body still felt sluggish, unfamiliar with the power that now thrummed within him, but he knew that if he hesitated too long, the arm might control him instead.

"Let's just get it over with," he muttered, his voice low, as he continued walking.

They reached a small clearing near the cliffs, the wind picking up as it rushed over the edge of the ocean. The landscape here was barren, save for the occasional patch of rocky outcroppings, perfect for what was about to take place. Morgan motioned for them to stop, and they all gathered in a loose circle.

Godrick took a deep breath, his fingers twitching as they brushed over the surface of his silver arm. He could feel the magic beneath it, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. It was so different from his old arm—the one that had been lost in battle, replaced by this strange new form. It was sleek, polished, and deceptively delicate in appearance. But he knew better. It had the potential to change everything.

"Are you ready?" Morgan's voice broke through his thoughts.

He nodded without speaking, his jaw clenched in determination.

"Do it," Jalter added, stepping back. Her gaze was intense, the cool wind tugging at her hair as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Godrick raised his arm slowly, feeling the muscles and tendons adjust as he did. The metal creaked, the gears inside moving with an almost imperceptible hum. The power was there, but it was still just a concept to him, like a sword without a master.

"Focus," Morgan said, her eyes narrowing as she observed him. "Your will shapes it. The arm responds to your thoughts, to your command. You need to bend it to your purpose, not let it bend you."

Godrick took a steadying breath, and with a swift motion, he thrust his arm forward. The air around him seemed to shiver in response, as if the very fabric of reality was shifting in tune with the movement. He flexed his fingers, and the arm responded with eerie precision, the joints flexing smoothly, as though they were an extension of his body rather than a foreign object.

He clenched his fist, his mind screaming for power. He had no idea what to expect, but a raw, primal urge surged through him, a sudden spark that lit up his senses. A burst of energy erupted from the fingertips, a wave of raw force that shot forward, slamming into a large rock at the edge of the clearing. The rock shattered into jagged pieces, sent flying in every direction as if it were little more than sand.

Godrick stared at the destruction, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The power was immense, far beyond anything he had ever felt before. It wasn't just strength—it was control, the kind of control that came with knowledge of how to direct this newfound force. But it wasn't perfect. He could feel the strain, the way the arm fought to take over, pushing him toward a darker, more primal instinct.

Jalter's eyes widened, her lips slightly parted. "You did that on purpose, right?" she asked, her tone a mix of awe and concern.

Godrick didn't answer right away. Instead, he slowly lowered his arm, watching the dust settle around the wreckage of the boulder. The hum of energy from the arm seemed to recede, but only slightly. There was still a pull, a connection between the silver prosthetic and the core of his being, as if it were trying to bind itself to him even further.

"I didn't mean to do that," he said, his voice hoarse as he looked back at Morgan. "It feels like it's… fighting me."

"That's normal," Morgan replied, her voice calm. "The arm is a powerful relic. It was made for the god of war. It will try to assert dominance, to guide you toward its intended purpose. But you have to assert your own will."

Godrick clenched his fist again, this time more deliberately, trying to feel the connection between himself and the arm. He took a deep breath, focusing his thoughts on control, on mastering the magic that surged through the prosthetic, rather than letting it control him.

This time, when he swung his arm forward, the energy that coursed through it was much more measured. It still exploded with a crack of force, but it was more directed, more controlled. The rocks in front of him cracked and splintered but didn't shatter entirely. The difference in power was staggering.

"That's better," Morgan said approvingly, nodding as she observed his progress. "You're starting to learn its rhythm. The more you focus, the more it will respond."

Godrick lowered his arm again, but his mind was still racing, piecing together what had just happened. He couldn't ignore the power that was still pulsing within him, but he knew that the arm was far from fully mastered. There was still a long road ahead.

Jalter raised an eyebrow. "You think you can do more?"

Godrick's gaze hardened as he looked back at her, his confidence growing with each passing moment. He flexed his fingers once more, a quiet resolve settling within him.

Morgan said nothing, but there was a quiet satisfaction in her gaze. She had always known that Godrick was capable of more than he realized. With the arm now a part of him, the future was wide open—and it would be up to him whether or not he could master the power that now coursed through him.

"Good," she said, almost imperceptibly, as she turned to walk back toward the village. "Now, we see if you can truly bend it to your will."

Godrick stood there for a moment, watching her leave, and then he turned back to the wreckage of the rocks. The power was still there, and this time, he wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers.

===

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