Omake: To Prince of Pendragon Manor, the sequel to Princess' Knight, by gothic dolly. One may wish to read that in order to get a clear view of the story up to this point.

"Hey, are you alright?"

A rather bulky fellow was seen dragging its feet across the ground, hand on whatever surface was available for support. Despite his mass and size, no object bent beneath his grip.

Shirou E-Sorry, I mean "PENDRAGON" finds this rather remarkable being brought low on the streets of Fuyuki. Unknowing quite what to say to a poor, downtrodden cosplayer, Shirou stuck to his quite literally knightly upbringing and held out a hand to this stranger. And with it, he offers to help.

"You would...extend your hand to me, peasant boy?"

The voice emanating from the rather intimidating, red adorned armor was far higher and softer than one would normally expect. Although reverbrated through the adorned helmet, the pitch was unmistakably female in tone.

"...what did you just call me?"

"Are you not a peasant, boy? Then hurry up and help me to my feet!"

"You could at least say please..."

What a day this would be.

*Scene*

"...a...Master?"

"Correct."

Normally a well trained and fit young man, nonetheless dragging the armored figure was a test of will and taxing on just about ever major muscle of Shirou's body.

"I'm your Master? Just what does that even...mean?" Shirou was at the mercy of fatigue. Even sitting upright at the family table was a chore after tiring himself out the way he did. And yet he still found it in him to provide a bowl of rice and small beef for this newcomer who has only ever referred to himself (herself?) as "Saber".

Wait a second...

"...that's the same name as Mom..." wondered Shirou.

At lightspeed, barely allowing this person to utter a "whatda", Shirou instantly removed the fastened helmet from its owner, revealing a young, blond haired and green eyed young lady around his age. Every inch of this person's face was smooth. A golden, if slightly light, shade of yellow all neatly wrapped into a peculiar yet lovely bun just behind their head. There was no doubt this "knight" was female. Also...

"M-Mom!?" exclaimed our most troubled protagonist, "you're into cosplay!?"

"Whatever are you doing, Peasant boy!? I am not your mother, and watch that tone of yours when you speak to me!"

"Of course you are! You look exactly like her, and you even talk like she does!" Despite protesting arm muscles, Shirou found it in himself to begin shouting at who he is convinced is his own mother despite this look-alike's vehemnt denial of such a thing.

In light of the shouting emanating from inside her own home, Ms. Irisviel chose this to be the exact time to open the door to her house and lovingly exclaim her return. Young Illya was in tow.

Which neither Shirou nor this mysterious, armor-clad female took to register into their brains.

Thus, Irisviel took to scolding her young Shirou over yelling at "Saber", Irisviel's most cherished wife. There were very few things in the world that could actually anger the very soft spoken Irisviel, and this was perhaps the top most one: mishandling her beloved Saber-san!

Word of admonishment were delivered, wholeheartedly, onto Shirou, who could barely utter a word. To our "Saber", the one wearing the rather heavy armor, she of long, silver hair was a sight to see.

Perfectly beautiful eyes.

A slender form that would merit the adoration of any who would beholden it.

And probably a right luscious rump to go with all of that.

These thoughts raced through "Saber"'s head as they had beholden this lovely lady presenting herself as the significant other of Arturia...

"Arturia..." The "Saber" in armor repeated to itself, "She says that name so beautifully...wait a minute..."

Sudden realization dawned just then-Arturia. Sounded pretty familiar. But how? While ogling this mysterious, magnificent beauty before itself, there was a crucial detail that was being forgotten. Servants, as befitting their station, have a famous history special to themselves. None modest, all glory, but many fall in sorrowful ways. A minute detail alluded to such a downfall for the armored "Saber". What detail was it?...it was just all to familiar...

"MORDRED!"

Oh, he remembers. That.

"Father?..."

At that moment, Ms. Einzbern and Shirou both pivot their heads first at who they thought was their beloved Saber to the actual Saber, clad in her usual work uniform consisting of a long, blue skirt that went nicely with the white blouse normally afitted to maids. Aside from their opposing outfits, there was not a speck of difference between their beloved Saber and this newcomer in the armor. "Father?..." repeated Iris and Shirou at the exact same time. The word was repeated a second time, only difference being it was much louder in tone.

*Scene*

The "Saber"-now identified as the true birth son of Arturia Pendragon, Mordred-was forced into the more homely clothes that once belonged to young Shirou, consisting of a red-and-white hoodie and a pair of short jeans, too tight for the young man Shirou has become but just right for the smaller body of Mordred. Who, despite the masculine name, has the body of a teenaged girl.

"...and so Shirou has become your Master?" questioned Saber, the one known as Arturia. A red mark shown on Shirou's hand, what was identified as the mark of the Command Seals and thus proof of the relationship between Master and Servant. Little Ilya, having arrived at the same time as her mother, Irisviel, was left leaning on the shoulder of Shirou, exhausted and very near asleep, as he stared at the mark left on his hand.

The mirror image that was Mordred stirred uncomfortably and stared back at his mother...father...parent.

Mordred-the legendary knight and son of King Arthur (Arturia, in actuality) who betrayed the kingdom in order to take the throne. "That is correct...F-Father..."

"No matter how much I thought I could change the world around me, it would appear that very little actually has," mused Saber to nobody in particular, "despite its standard procedure, the Holy Grail War has emerged again, forty years ahead of schedule."

"But Saber, dear, what does that mean?" asked Irisviel, "that Shirou is now a Master?" In firm affirmation, she nodded in return to the question. A simple answer. Unfortunately, "simple" did not mean "better" in this case.

Shirou mulled over all of this as Ilya snored rather loudly in the crux of his shoulder, nestled into what she usually considers the safest place in the entire household, even if it also happens to be the most conflicted. "To be honest, I don't get a whole lot of this..." he said, finally.

Saber nodded again. "There is much indeed we have to go over with you, Shirou. Many dark, dangerous-"

"But you're basically saying is that this Saber-MORDRED-is my brother!?"

The entire Pendragon living room went stone cold silent.

"Not just my brother, but my older brother!?" Shirou stood up, utterly lambasted at this turn of events. Mordred-as in, the Mordred that was the son of King Arthur, the betrayer who slew his own kin for something so artificial and impossible as the throne of Britain, was also officially Shirou's older brother. Who also has the body of a young girl, unless his eyes deceive him. A young, very beautiful young lady at that.

The erstwhile forgotten Ilya lie still, unconscious and unharmed by her brother's outburst. The parent Irisviel, on the other hand, was dismayed by Shirou's quick and empty headed abandoning and abdication of Ilya's wellbeing. Everyone else, Shirou included, were merely stunned beyond our universe.

Saber was the one who broke the silence, and the only one to speak for until afterwards, there was more void silence: "Yes, Shirou. That would...be correct."

Simple was not always better.

*Scene*

Dinner had been served, masterfully by Shirou as always, whilst Iris volunteered to work on the dishes. The mother Saber had decided to take Shirou himself off alone to the side and explain to explain to him the "rules" of the Holy Grail War. It would not be a short talk, either, and Irisviel would like that weight off her mind. And the guilt that would follow.

Strangely, the servant Red Saber had also volunteered to do the dishes. The irony was not lost on the madam von Einzbern.

'He...she...this Servant looks exactly like my Arturia...I wonder why that is-'

"Irisviel is your name, correct?"

"NANI?"

"Father said your name was Irisviel," said the Red Saber, "it is a beautiful name. Much like you."

Oh dear.

How...disturbingly similar that was to Blue Saber's compliments.

"Oh, w-well, thank you, S-Son," she stammered.

"Don't call me that!"

Irisviel's smile helped to warm his scowl, however. Upon its place, a blush and a confident smile formed. "Err..."

"Shh," said he, who scooped Iris into his arms and hung her low, romantic and gently. "You will not be singular for long," he closed his womanly face ever so nearer to Irisviel's, "for I should court you sweetly, smoothly, that which your husband will loose faith."

"I'mm ala-ala-already with someone, with Saber-chan-" Never had she been so red, so embarrassed. And there was very little anymore that could do that to the missus of the house.

"Then under my father's garment you shall not lay long," Red Saber said, taking one of her hands in a very husband-and-wife fashion, "for I know what it is now I want to wish upon the Grail..."

"MORDRED!"

The Holy Grail War tutorial had apparently ended. Or perhaps Saber was merely waltzing back to the kitchen for seconds. Hard to tell.

"You will place my love away this instant and take your place in the bedroom with my other son. Is that clear!?" she said.

As if he was already victorious, Red Saber clasped Irisviel to his womanly side and smirked, his head held high and his connection with Shirou seeming to burst with mana. "It is too late, Father-now that I have been summoned to this Grail War, I will partake in its riches while I yet exist. I will win the war, and then wish for my second life. Then I will strike you down hence and claim this fair maiden as my beloved wife!" The Red Saber, Mordred, declared proudly.

By the product of almost mirror-like quality, both Sabers ignited in a splash of mana. Blue clashed with red over the field of battle that was the living room of the manor (and a poor choice of a battlefield it was). "I am not the sovereign that you knew before, Mordred. I was superior a knight to you in my kingdom, and I am stronger now."

"And how is that, Father?"

"Very simply. You see, Mordred..."

"Yes?"

"You are merely the copy of something already done. A red Saber of a red Saber. Meanwhile, 'I'-"

The ever familiar white-and-blue dress that was as iconic as Saber as her silly lost string of hair appeared to replace her slightly dirtied work uniform. Her long sleeved shirt was as white as powdered snow and just as lovely. The complimenting, calming color of blue shaded neatly with her white shirt that served as the skirt. And that heavenly smile she produced...

Simply served to stun everybody in the room.

Irisviel was at awe of the mighty yet beautiful Saber, the one she had fallen in love with years ago.

Mordred, meanwhile, was in both awe and total disgust. One being that the form his creator took was impressive and enough to disarm even him even when in full armor, and the other being that Arturia was very well just himself in a different outfit.

"...I'm going to bed now, Father."

*Scene*

And so it was. The end of Shirou's first day as a Master of the Fifth Holy Grail War. The Master of Saber.

His room seemed extra quiet this night. Much was said. Much more was going to be said as well. So this was a respite; a deep, calming breath before a major storm. Magic, what was more commonly called "magecraft", and an age-old battle for the Holy Grail. The Command Seal on Shirou's hand indicated the proof that this was so. 'The Master of Saber...' thought Shirou.

'Mordred: The Traitor Knight. Once thought to have been the ideal Knight of the Round Table, he fell under the dark sway of Morgan la Fey and seized control of the kingdom while King Arthur was away. For this, he was branded a traitor and killed by his own father. It is said that even though he was dead, a curse still active by the witch Morgan forced Mordred's own dead hand to slay the king, who had thought the battle won at Camlann. Such was the fate of Camelot, to be dispelled by a knight thought incorruptible...and now, "he" is my Servant. Now he has a second chance at life to grant a wish...whatever it is he wants...' he continued to his own mind.

...

"Wait a second...if Mom is Arturia, Mordred's father, and that makes him my older brother...that means he has to-" The befuddled Shirou had a bit of a stunning revelation to top all the others he's had today. As if on cue, a certain familiar person had already appeared from just beyond his door.

Wearing a dangerously small, red tube top and a strangely matching pair of jeans cut to substitute as a pair of hot pants, The Red Saber, his Servant-technically his brother-was dressed about as skimpy as a sunbathing biker jockey. For a reason Shirou cannot entirely fathom, the "son" of Arturia Pendragon bore a body that was an exact duplicate of his father's. That is, a woman's body. One of which that Mordred was quite unaware of.

Or-judging by the blatant flaunting of his female form-he rather enjoyed it.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, Master, I just need to pull out myself an extra futon..." Red Saber said, in that tone of voice that would suggest there was really no big deal about sharing a room with an attractive female.

"W...Wait, Saber, hold on a second. Can't you just sleep right next door?" Shirou had asked. With more than a tinge of nervousness in his voice. Male or no, Red Saber had the body of a pretty young lass and he wasn't going to be having any of this "I'm a guy" crap. It also didn't help that pulling the futon around positioned his girly posterior straight into Shirou's direction.

Placing the futon right next to his (as resisting a Servant was never a smart idea), Red Saber stared down back at Shirou like he was an idiot. Very much like the Saber he knows, however, there was very little to suggest that from just her face. More like he could just sense his personality beaming straight into his own skull.

"If this is about the brother thing, Master, it is in the most obscure way that you and I are related," he said, matter-of-factly. "I wish to sleep in your room for your protection."

"But, Saber, it's not that, it's-" Shirou began to say. His Servant, in response, actually began to take a more somber look. Like he was almost sad. "Master, if this is about what I did in my first life..."

...that's right, Shirou thought. This wasn't any ordinary traitor-this was Mordred. While some switch sides for money, power, or out of some sense of true duty, his reason for turning on his own father was baffling. In life, he was a famous knight, thought to have been the most devoted and chivalrous knight in the kingdom even when stood up to the living legends that were Gawain and Lancelot. And then to have just thrown it all away for...legend tells it was for the throne. For all that power. But is this Servant...is Mordred implying it was for some reason other than power, something else entirely?

There was a sliver of hope for a doubt in there, certainly.

"Don't worry about it," waved off Shirou, "what you did then isn't really going to dictate who you are right now." He at least decided to think so, although he doesn't say anything regarding that. Shirou was, however, surprised by his Servant then placing his arms on his shoulders. Those thin, soft hands...

"I appreciate your slightly moronic-yet pleasing-word on the matter, Master. Now then-" SLAM! At the speed of sound, Shirou found his head placed firmly between the small, rounded breasts of Red Saber. "-I still must protect you at all costs. So if there ever is a moment wherein you feel most frightened, do not hesitate to cling onto me as you are now. Really, I do not mind."

...

'Are you messing with me?' thought Shirou. If this was a joke, it was the worst one ever. Red Saber, it seemed, did indeed seem to be aware of his body being female and was just playfully teasing him. As that would make sense, why would he say this without a single trace of sarcasm in his voice?

Thus

The Fifth Holy Grail War began at a slightly uneasy start for Shirou and the Pendragon house.