A/N: Hey everyone!
The transfer went great, so now my wife is once more officially pregnant!
My Wife miscarried, and we lost the last baby a couple months ago when we did this before, so hopefully this one sticks!
Please keep us in your prayers if you are religious!!!
=== Godrick ===
Jeanne found Godrick sitting alone atop one of the enormous slabs of stone that had crashed to the earth when the Hanging Gardens of Babylon first took flight.
His halberd rested across his knees while he stared silently toward the horizon where the floating fortress drifted through the evening sky.
Even from a distance she could tell something was wrong.
There was no visible wound upon him, yet the stillness surrounding the giant knight was somehow more unsettling than if he had been covered in blood.
His shoulders were rigid beneath his armor, and although he appeared calm, she could almost feel the fury radiating from him.
She approached slowly.
“Godrick?” she asked gently.
“Are you alright?”
He turned his head just enough to acknowledge her presence before looking away again.
Jeanne studied him for a long moment before quietly sighing.
Whatever had happened aboard the Hanging Gardens had affected him far more deeply than the battle itself.
She wanted to ask, wanted to understand what had caused such a dramatic change, but she also knew there were moments when silence was the greatest kindness one could offer.
“I’ll be heading north,” she said softly.
“Join me when you’re ready.”
This time he gave a small nod.
Satisfied that he had at least heard her, Jeanne offered him one last concerned glance before continuing on alone.
Godrick remained where he was.
His thoughts drifted back to the illusion, to Mordred’s face, her tears, her voice accusing him of abandoning her.
He knew it had all been a fabrication.
Shakespeare had crafted the illusion specifically to break his spirit, yet knowing it was false did nothing to dull the pain it had inflicted.
The memories lingered like fresh wounds, refusing to fade.
Slowly, he exhaled.
Without warning, he rose to his feet.
The boulder he had been sitting upon must have weighed several tons, yet he stooped, wrapped his hands beneath it, and lifted it effortlessly above his head.
Then he hurled the massive stone.
The boulder vanished over the distant treeline like a catapult projectile, disappearing far beyond the horizon before the thunderous crash of its landing finally echoed back across the countryside.
Godrick stood silently for another moment.
The simple act had eased the last of the pressure building inside him.
‘Best not keep the little lady waiting.’ He thought to himself.
With that thought, he leaned forward and broke into a run.
It did not take long for him to catch Jeanne.
Together they followed the shadow of the Hanging Gardens as it drifted across forests, rivers, and rolling plains before finally slowing above a broad valley.
In the distance stood a massive castle overlooking the battlefield, while beneath the floating fortress an immense cloud of dust billowed outward.
As the dust settled, countless skeletal warriors clawed their way from the earth, assembling into ranks beneath the fortress.
“It looks like the battle is beginning here,” Jeanne said quietly.
She watched the growing undead army for a moment before turning toward Godrick.
“There is something unusual about the Master of Red. If you encounter him, subdue him and bring him to me. I believe it would be best if we separate for now.”
She offered him a small smile.
“And… try not to cause too much damage.”
Before he could respond with a nod, Jeanne leapt from the rocky ledge and disappeared toward the battlefield below.
Godrick remained where he stood, considering where to begin.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden bloom of a massive purple magic circle high above.
A heartbeat later, a beam of concentrated magical energy roared toward him.
Godrick raised his left arm, and the blast slammed into his open palm.
The force behind it shattered the cliff beneath his feet and tore the landscape apart for hundreds of meters, yet the beam itself stopped split against his outstretched hand.
Brilliant violet light washed over his armor as magical energy poured into him, the metal of his gauntlet glowing white-hot all the way to his elbow while his Noble Phantasm greedily absorbed every ounce it could.
When the beam finally ceased, silence returned.
Godrick slowly lowered his arm as white steam curled from the heated metal.
He looked toward the Hanging Gardens.
Somewhere up there, he knew the Assassin of Red and her Master were watching.
Without the slightest hesitation, he raised one armored hand… and extended a single middle finger toward the floating fortress.
Another magic circle immediately appeared.
And a second beam fired toward him.
He caught that one too.
When the light faded for a second time, he bent his knees before launching himself from the cliff.
The earth exploded beneath his feet as he shot toward the battlefield.
The instant his boots touched the ground, he swung his halberd downward with both hands.
Every ounce of kinetic energy stored within it erupted outward as it connected with the ground, a colossal shockwave racing across the battlefield, pulverizing hundreds of skeletal warriors in every direction.
Then Jeanne’s voice echoed directly within his mind.
“Godrick. Berserker of Red has betrayed his allies and is attacking both factions and poses a threat to the innocent civilians around the area. Eliminate him.”
Without another thought, Godrick bent his knees and launched himself toward the location Jeanne had indicated.
He descended into the midst of a chaotic battle where the Lancers of Red and Black, Atalanta, and Berserker Spartacus were already locked in combat.
His landing shook the battlefield, and every Servant turned toward the newcomer.
“State your name!” Lancer of Black demanded, lowering his spear into a ready stance.
Godrick didn’t even acknowledge him.
His eyes settled solely upon Spartacus.
“I can feel it!” the towering Berserker roared, a wild grin spreading across his scarred face as he looked towards Godrick.
“You are an oppressor!”
With a thunderous laugh, Spartacus charged.
He leapt high into the air, raising his enormous sword overhead before bringing it crashing down with all of his monstrous strength.
Godrick didn’t bother materializing his halberd.
Instead, he raised his left hand, and the descending blade slammed into his open palm.
Then Godrick twisted his wrist, wrenching the sword aside, and drove a devastating uppercut into Spartacus’ jaw.
The giant Berserker became a blur as he was launched across the valley, disappearing into the distance before crashing somewhere beyond the surrounding hills.
Godrick lowered his fist and immediately began walking after him.
He had only taken a few steps before he felt steel touch his throat.
Lancer of Black stood directly in his path, spear leveled at the Juggernaut.
“I asked you a question,” the proud Servant said evenly.
“You will give me your name.”
Godrick looked down at the man whose head barely came to the lower edge of his chestplate.
White-hot steam hissed through the narrow vents of his helmet.
The giant made no move to attack, silently expecting the Lancer to step aside and allow him to pursue Berserker.
Instead, the Lancer of Black remained firmly planted in his path.
Having already heard the mysterious Servant referred to only as the Juggernaut, he had expected at least the courtesy of a name.
Every Noble Heroic Spirit announced themselves with pride, yet this armored giant had ignored him completely, refusing even to acknowledge the challenge.
To Vlad III, it was not simply disrespect, it was a slight against his honor.
Behind him, Karna and Atalanta wisely kept their distance.
Neither had any desire to repeat the brutal encounter they had endured atop the Hanging Gardens only hours before, and both silently watched to see how the confrontation would unfold.
Before Godrick decided how best to remove the obstacle standing before him, booming laughter echoed across the valley from the direction Spartacus had crashed.
Vlad instinctively glanced toward the sound, and in that single instant of distraction Godrick moved.
His left hand shot forward, clamping around the shaft of the spear before the Lancer could react, while his right fist came crashing across Vlad’s jaw.
The blow hurled the Lancer across the battlefield, sending him tumbling through broken stone before he finally skidded to a halt.
Godrick casually tossed the spear several dozen yards away, stared at the fallen Servant for a brief moment, then released another plume of steam through his helmet before continuing toward Spartacus as though the interruption had been little more than an inconvenience.
Several moments later Vlad forced himself back onto his feet, anger burning across his features as he stumbled toward his discarded spear.
“How dare you!” he roared at the retreating knight.
“Do not walk away from me!”
Crimson magical energy erupted beneath the earth as Kazikli Bey activated, causing countless iron-like stakes to burst violently from the ground around Godrick in an attempt to skewer him from every direction.
Without even looking back, Godrick lifted one armored foot and drove it into the earth with tremendous force.
The impact rippled outward through the ground, shattering the forming stakes before they could fully emerge and reducing them to fragments.
Only then did he finally acknowledge the Lancer.
Turning halfway around, he slowly raised his left hand before his chest and clenched it into a fist.
Jagged, rune-like markings spread across the silver metal of his arm, glowing one after another before fading just as quickly.
An overwhelming force settled over Vlad’s body, and his knees buckled against his will.
No matter how fiercely he resisted, he found himself dropping onto one knee, his muscles refusing to obey him.
At the same time, an unnatural pressure settled over his throat, extinguishing every word before it could leave his lips.
His pride screamed at him to rise, to curse this silent knight, yet nothing happened.
Godrick’s command had been simple.
‘Kneel…
and be silent.’
Without sparing the humiliated Lancer another glance, the Juggernaut turned back toward the source of the laughter just as Spartacus emerged from the dust, charging headlong across the ruined battlefield with a grin that bordered on insanity.
Unlike the others, Berserker relied almost entirely upon overwhelming physical force.
Godrick welcomed that.
Against a warrior who wished only for close combat, where words were unnecessary.
“I have found another oppressor!” Spartacus roared.
“Come! Let us free the weak through glorious struggle!”
Godrick’s halberd materialized into his grasp just as Spartacus swung.
The massive sword crashed against the haft with enough force to shake the surrounding earth, but Godrick absorbed the impact without yielding an inch before twisting, and driving the butt of the weapon straight into Spartacus’ face.
Cartilage crunched beneath the strike, yet the Berserker only laughed harder, blood streaming freely from his shattered nose as he raised his blade for another swing.
Godrick sidestepped the descending sword, slammed his shoulder into Spartacus’ chest to stagger him backward, then pivoted smoothly into a low sweep.
The axe blade carved cleanly through Spartacus’ right leg just above the knee before momentum carried Godrick into another rotation, the hammerhead of the halberd crashing into Berserker’s ribs with explosive force.
His laughter never ceased.
Before Godrick’s eyes the missing leg regenerated, flesh knitting together almost instantly as Spartacus climbed back to his feet with even greater enthusiasm than before.
Seeing regeneration of that magnitude, Godrick planted his halberd upright in the earth beside him.
If cutting the Berserker apart accomplished nothing, perhaps raw physical destruction would.
He slowly walked forward, silently inviting Spartacus to come be beaten, and the Berserker eagerly accepted.
Roaring with delight, Spartacus charged once more, swinging wildly overhead.
Godrick ducked beneath the attack, slipping behind him in one smooth motion before wrapping a single arm around the giant Servant’s waist, effortlessly lifting him into the air before driving him headfirst into the ground hard enough to shatter the stone beneath them.
Even pinned beneath the rubble, Spartacus continued stabbing upward with his sword.
Godrick caught the attacking arm, snapped it backward at the elbow with a sickening crack, then stomped a heavy boot squarely into Berserker’s chest.
He seized the broken arm, and tore it free from the shoulder in one savage pull before he began beating Spartacus with his own severed limb.
The only response was laughter.
Every broken bone began to regenerate.
Every torn limb began growing back almost immediately.
Godrick discarded the arm and stepped back, studying the monster before him as he searched for a more permanent solution.
He barely had a moment to think before Spartacus surged forward again with renewed vigor, wrapping both arms around Godrick’s waist in an immense bear hug.
Muscles bulged as Berserker lifted the towering knight entirely off the ground before hurling both of them skyward.
For a brief instant they hung suspended against the open sky, then Spartacus twisted his body and drove Godrick’s back into the earth with enough force to leave a massive crater stretching across the battlefield.
Spartacus immediately mounted him, raining down a relentless storm of punches.
Godrick weathered the barrage, his armored forearms intercepting most of the blows until one strike glanced off his guard.
Using that tiny opening, he surged upward with a brutal headbutt that exploded across Spartacus’ face.
Blood sprayed through the air as the Berserker reeled backward, only for Godrick to seize the leather straps crossing his chest and violently yank him forward again, smashing his face into the shattered rock below.
Keeping hold of his throat, Godrick rolled with the momentum, reversing their positions before driving Spartacus beneath him.
His fists rose and fell like hammers, each punch burying Berserker’s face deeper into the fractured earth until the stone itself began collapsing beneath the repeated impacts.
Even then Spartacus fought back.
One desperate punch caught Godrick across the side of his helmet, forcing him back just enough for Berserker to free a leg and kick him squarely in the chest.
The impact launched the knight several yards away, but Godrick simply rolled backward onto his feet as Spartacus charged yet again.
This time he caught the incoming strike on his left forearm, rotated through the impact, and answered with a single right haymaker that detonated against Spartacus’ jaw.
The resulting shockwave blasted dust, rubble, and broken trees outward in every direction while Berserker disappeared into the crater created by the punch.
True to his nature, Spartacus refused to stay down.
He clawed his way back to the surface, roaring with exhilaration rather than pain, only to be greeted by a vicious armored backhand that shattered what remained of his face.
His sword slipped from his numb fingers and clattered across the ground.
Godrick stooped, seized the fallen weapon, and thrust it forward with all his strength.
Spartacus barely managed to catch his wrist before the blade reached his heart, but the effort left him exposed.
Godrick drove his knee upward into the pommel, hammering the sword straight through Spartacus’ throat.
Releasing the hilt, he followed immediately with another crushing right hook before catching Berserker’s retaliating arm, wrenching it completely free from the socket once more before a powerful kick to the chest sent Spartacus sprawling backward.
Godrick extended his right hand, and his halberd came hurtling through the battlefield, smashing through scattered debris before slamming perfectly into his grasp.
Without hesitation he raised the weapon high overhead and brought it crashing down with enough force to make the entire valley tremble.
The axe blade pierced straight through Spartacus’ torso and buried itself deep within the earth beneath him, unleashing a thunderous quake that every Servant across the battlefield felt beneath their feet.
Godrick ripped the weapon free and looked down in silence.
For the first time since the battle had begun, Spartacus did not move.
Satisfied, Godrick rested the halberd across his shoulder and began jogging toward Jeanne’s location, sensing her presence nearby.
He had covered barely half the distance when the earth beneath him began to convulse violently.
The ground split apart as an enormous mass of writhing flesh erupted upward, pulsing with grotesque veins while crackling purple lightning danced across its surface.
Bulbous sacs of magical energy swelled along its serpentine body as the abomination rose high above the battlefield.
“The time has come!” the monstrous creature bellowed.
“With one blow I shall eradicate every form of oppression and crush all who hold authority in this land!”
“THIS… IS… SPARTACUS!”
A sphere of blinding violet energy condensed inside the creature’s gaping maw.
Nearby, Jeanne and another Servant immediately sprinted toward Godrick.
“Godrick!” Jeanne cried, unfurling her banner as she ran.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Godrick charged toward her instead.
Reaching her an instant before the Noble Phantasm fired, he wrapped an arm around her waist and hurled her clear of the blast’s path.
The glowing sphere burst apart, unleashing a colossal beam of destructive energy that consumed the battlefield in brilliant violet light.
The torrent slammed into Godrick with unimaginable force, driving him backward across the valley until his armored hand tore deep furrows through solid stone in an effort to halt his retreat.
Every muscle in his body strained as he leaned into the beam, refusing to yield another inch.
White-hot metal spread across his armor as he absorbed what power he could, yet even for him the attack demanded everything he possessed.
Still…
He did not fall.
As the world disappeared beneath a flood of blinding light, the silent Juggernaut continued pushing forward, standing alone against the full fury of Spartacus’ Noble Phantasm.
===
I promise I’ll take good care of them:)