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It’s almost like you can see yourself in the third person.
She lay on her bed, arms and legs outstretched. Staring blankly at the ceiling, the harsh light of the room caused her to squint her eyes, and ultimately close them altogether. The only sounds of the room were her gentle breaths and occasional sighs. The Master of Chaldea was officially languid beyond all effort.
A few attempts to ping her for communications came and went. She refused to entertain anything short of life or death, and even that, she wagered, would probably be procrastinated until the last possible moment. She couldn’t bring herself to move. All these endless days of farming QP or Blazes of Wisdom, of Rayshifting for extra work in previously cleared areas, minute Singularities, wacky events that seemed to spoil any hope of a rest conveniently during a holiday… not to mention the actual reality of the Lostbelts left to confront. Four left…
She prayed there would be a quick end to all of this, but knew it wasn’t possible. Still, her meandering thoughts wandered, questions floating by in her mind like debris from a wreck drifting past. None of them were even coherent enough to latch onto and try to rationalize or explain to herself. There was… nothing here for her to do, aside from her job.
Da Vinci’s high pitched voice was faintly heard in the background of her thoughts, then Holmes’ accented voice, then Goredolf’s blustering attempts at commanding, and finally Mash’s gentle pleading. She almost answered that last one, but the fleeting instant of will departed in the next instant that brought with it only more malaise.
She closed her eyes, and for what felt like hours, but were probably less than minutes, entered a dark, dreamless, yet still half-conscious state. She wasn’t awake, but she was aware of the environment around her. The ticking of the clock at her bedside. The rustling of the sheets beneath her and the pillow under her head. The sounds of her slowing heartbeat and her breath leaving her, then a new one entering. Just as she began to find a hole in her consciousness to slip into and fulfill the fall into dreams, she could faintly hear the hiss of her door opening. It was too late to come back to the surface and check, however, and the Master of Chaldea allowed herself to slip away just as she heard voices in the room.
…Something was licking her cheek. Slowly, she could feel feeling coming back to her limbs, and the strength with which to move her muscles. Her body hadn’t felt so heavy in a long time… was she more tired than even she knew? Steadily, she began to feel the ability to blink her eyes again, and found herself blinking very, very slowly. It was just darkness first, then, as her eyes took in light once again, and her brain began to register her awakened state, she found that her room was not at all as she had left it when she had fallen asleep. There were… Servants standing all around the room. Her ears began to register sound again. They were chattering amongst themselves. They sounded happy. Wait, was that a cake in the center of the room? Why was it untouched, when everyone had a drink in their hands? She blinked again and moved to rub her eyes. Her hand met fluff before it came in contact with her own skin. Fou squeaked and nuzzled into her neck, before hopping onto her stomach and letting out another adorable “Fou, fou!”
That got the Servants’ attention. Everyone’s conversation died down, and as she sat up slowly in bed, the Master noticed that her room was full of people, to the point of the door staying open as others came and went, the sounds of merriment outside and down the hall.
“Wh… what is this?” she asked weakly, her grogginess preventing her voice from rising above a whisper. From the throng of Servants, Da Vinci, Sherlock Holmes, and Mash appeared in front of her bed.
“Surprise!” Da Vinci said with a bright smile, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling.
“Congratulations are in order.” Holmes said, gesturing with his pipe toward the cake.
“More importantly, we’re here to say…” Mash said, lighting the candle atop the cake that you now can see was frosted and covered in fruit.
“Thank you very much!” Every Servant in the room cheered in unison.
Some of them raised their various drink containers to their Master in salute. Some of the more flirtatious ones blew her kisses, or actually kissed her on the cheek. Still others — the more regal types — simply acknowledged her with a cool and aloof sort of admiration that they normally would never afford someone.
The rousing shout and sudden affection shocked any remnant of slumber from you, jolting you awake with a surprise that gave way to the first positive feeling you’ve felt all week: relief. That in turn blossomed into something warmer... gratitude.
For the first time in a long while, you finally feel back at home in your own body, no longer dissociating under the weight of the world on your shoulders.
Mash approached with the cake, the candle burning bright.
“We wanted to thank you for all of your hard work. We see how much you care about everyone, and… a lot of us often forget to give you a proper thanks for everything you do for us.”
Holmes nodded. “Whether it’s braving a brand new Lostbelt, or retreading familiar ground to help Servants confront their inner demons, and fostering their growth…”
“Or just giving it your all when all you want is a day off, for crying out loud.” Da Vinci continued.
“We just wanted to show you we care about you too, Master. And that we’re so thankful to have you at our side, and serve you in battle.” Mash smiled at you. “Please, make a wish, and then have some cake!”
You look around the room at all the Servants you’ve summoned, all the connections you’ve formed, all the bonds you’ve deepened. These are all some of history’s greatest warriors, its most brilliant minds, its brightest heroes and darkest villains. The excellence defined by human existence, each of these Servants you have met across time and space are an example of some form of human peak, or even a case of its strongest negatives. Whatever the case, all of them are exemplary in some fashion, and yet, all of them now pay tribute to you, what some would call the most average, mediocre, no-name Master in the history of Magecraft. But if these Servants can respect you, and follow your orders and protect you with their very existences… what does it matter what those elitists have to say?
As you survey the room, your smile only grows brighter, meeting the expectant gaze of each of your Servants— no, your friends. You would perish without them, and they flourish now because of you. And as you start to close your eyes and form a wish, Goredolf Musik stumbles into the room, wheezing and out of breath.
“She’s awake!” He gasps, grabbing a nearby drink and chugging it to quench his parched lips, only to realize it’s alcoholic and nearly spit it out with bulging eyes.
You can’t fight back your laugh, and you know your wish plain as day; no Holy Grail needed to realize it.
“Thank you so much, everyone. I’m so glad I met all of you.” You address the room, bowing in your seated position. You turn your gaze to your Shielder, your partner. “I hope we can be together for a long time.” You close your eyes, blow the candle out, and re-open them to Mash’s blushing face, and her loving gaze.