Disclaimer: Don't own Worm or anything from the Nasu-verse. This is a non-profit work of fan-based parody, written SOLELY for personal enjoyment and the perusal of the masses.

AN: CONTINUE ON, GOOD SIRS AND MISSIS; NOTHING TO SEE HERE!

CONSTRUCTIVE REVIEWS HAVE BEEN CONTEMPLATED AND ACTED UPON!

Fellowman: Yeah, I've been trying to look up how people spoke back then, so I can integrate it into Artoria's speech patterns. Once I get the hang of it and/or find a reliable source for Middle Age lingo, I'll probably end up going back over prior chapters to edit in some proper, Medieval speech. :)

v3yah: Artoria is not wearing a helmet, while she's leaping across the rooftops. The reasons she doesn't feel the need to conceal her face are in part her straightforward attitude as a knight, her actual lacking of any helmet to use in the first place, and her actually forgetting to worry about being recorded at all. After all, she's been absent from the modern era for over two decades. And in any case, she honestly doesn't see a problem with showing her face to her enemies, even in a world of capes, since she's confident in her ability to defend herself. I may do a small PHO bit on the results of that. As for Artoria!Taylor vs Mordred... Well, I'm leaning toward it becoming an inevitable canon occurrence more and more with each passing day of studying these two characters and their relationship.

WolfsTrinity & ZeroNu: Yeah, I decided to tone down Charisma and edit those parts. Now, it functions more like a less in-your-face version of Glory-Girl's aura. Also, ZeroNu had a point about Charisma having less effect on leaders being odd, so I removed that and just changed the way it functions, which I'm still trying to fully design. I'm going for a "makes good qualities more noticeable, but doesn't prevent negative qualities (depends on the person's viewpoint) from being taken into account". It works best if there are no known negative qualities for observers to factor in and reinforces good relations and encourages focus on the user.

Killer Hamster, Infinity Emperor, & Rex the Guest: People have been mostly saying Caliburn and Rhongomyniad as a starter weapon. There was Infinity Emperor, who pointed out that dagger she has too. To be honest, I'm not sure about Caliburn. I REALLY want to, but part of its legend is that it's been shattered irreparably. On the other hand though, I've been looking for who or what created it, and that's looking to have most likely been Merlin. In which case, that means it could be remade by human hands and, thus, there should be no problem for the force behind her resurrection. Rhongomyniad though is iffy because it's, frankly, pure EX-Rank bullshit in power level, even more-so than Excalibur. Like, the thing, is seriously, not even kidding a possible Scion one-shotter. The damn thing has the ability to tear open the world of "illusion" and start a new Age of the Gods -if anyone were stupid enough to use it that way. I'm honestly wondering if it's even safe to include that thing in the story. Endbringer-level curb-stomps are not only a possibility with it, but a near guarantee.

Lira Lemis the Guest: Good question. The way I see it, the reason tinkertech can't be understood by normals is that regular Tinkers have an involuntary Striker/Shaker power that lets them make parts that make zero sense and shouldn't do what they do. Essentially, they are creating small parts of powers in physical form. So yeah, Magic Resistance will work on any tinkertech that isn't entirely physical/brute force in nature. Scanners, nanothorns, lasers, and even lie detectors will just not work, whereas a straight railgun would do some damage, assuming her Instinct didn't let her dodge/block it. The only Tinker she might have real trouble with is Dragon, because Dragon's tech CAN(THIS IS CANON) be understood and reverse engineered by regular humans. Take Saint and his crew for example. Dragon also doesn't have a physical body that would allow her power to force her to make those nonsensical parts. Everything she makes is pure SCIENCE!

Multiple reviewers: To be clear, there is literally zero chance of anyone from Artoria's time, except possibly Bedivere, Mordred, and Merlin, showing up.

Multiple Reviewers: I'm actually going to be aiming to keep my story as bash-free as possible. Not going to play favorites with any characters, but I'm also not going to go out of my way to make Taylor enemies with every group she doesn't want to join, like the Wards or even Undersiders. To her, it's simple, just do right by the people. You don't need a fancy costume or backers. I'm really not sure how to go about the Undersiders meeting (because we all know it's inevitable at some point). Tattletale is, frankly, stupidly powerful. The only reason she's not like a Thinker 10+ is cause she's not a precognitive and can (this is CANON) only safely use her power about 2 hours a week total and does all the rest of her Sherlocking ON HER OWN. Her power is quite possibly the only Thinker power in the world that straight works on Endbringers, because it cheats by using her human senses to gather information, instead of its own (literally only spends like 5 minutes conscious during the Leviathan fight and finds out more about Endbringers in those 5 minutes than the world has discovered in decades). In that way, she might be able to totally ignore Magic Resistance. I have two separate ways the Undersiders will play a part in the story that depend heavily on whether or not I allow her power to work on Artoria!Taylor -or to what degree.

Multiple reviewers: Glad to see people think I'm at least sort of doing Danny right. I will continue to try and uphold an actual personality for him in my writing and make him an actual character. Trying to do these interactions is hard without a solid canon personality to work off of. Arnoldstrife commented that they didn't find it believable that he would be "smart" and not notice his daughter's bullying problem. Well, he literally can't be stupid, at least, if he's one of the main guys, who's been keeping an entire union afloat with very little work to support them. The dude is Head of Hiring and the Spokesperson, which means he's got to be good with people, but he's a manager of people and a negotiator first, not a detective. I'm pretty sure his ignorance can be excused by the fact that Taylor deliberately went out of her way in canon to hide her problems from him. Along with the fact that he is still depressed from his wife's death and does so much in his job for the Union, he likely doesn't even have the time or energy to investigate properly. Meanwhile, Taylor -in her rant to Danny about the school- is finally no longer suppressing her memories, so she's getting all of them in one big rush the more she instinctively acts on the ones she already has. Thus, with Artoria's mindset to quickly filter through them and reinterpret everything, she's coming to quite a few conclusions she didn't before. I do appreciate the effort you took to comment. Yeah, Danny is hard to write believably, and I am WELL aware of this. I really hope to make a better character out of him than he was portrayed in canon, but it's going to be an uphill battle all the way. But WOW, you really got into that review of yours! XD I hope to improve Danny's ability as a competent parent as the story goes on.

Multiple reviewers: Yeah, Taylor's not really going to have a chance for a secret identity, not that she particularly cares. Artoria is straightforward like that. I mean, obviously, some people are going to try shit with her, but they are going to sorely regret it. Not even Artoria is aware of how much they will, since she's only beginning to grasp the pure, undiluted bullshit that is her existence now.

Return: 1.3

Spending time with Danny Hebert for the first time in roughly three decades was an interesting experience.

In a lot of ways, he was just as she was starting to better remember he had always been. In others, he was so very different.

Maybe, it was the fact that she looked at him now through mature eyes and with the experience of many years of managing a kingdom's subjects, but it was also fairly obvious that he wasn't completely sure how to feel about her or this situation. He was having trouble speaking to her the same way he had before the... Locker Event. He had even said as much.

She could understand that. His child had essentially become an almost completely different person. He was confused and off-balance; his world had been tipped on its head. In that case, she had told him to simply speak his mind with her, rather than attempt to spare her feelings. She would prefer forthrightness and integrity before all else. After all, aside from the concealment of her gender, that was how she had ruled her kingdom and expected to be dealt with in turn.

"You keep getting this detached look on your face whenever you talk about that place, and then you look like you want to shut me out again."

"It's... a habit I cultivated by necessity. The King had to remain impartial and just, no matter who was been judged. I'm only now attempting to properly tame it."

"I may not know a lot about psychology, nor personally be a paragon of mental health, myself, but even I know that's unhealthy and self-destructive."

"Believe me, Father, I, for one, know that better than most. It was in many ways the reason for Camelot's fall."

She had told him about Camelot, about being reborn as a female analog of King Arthur, about hiding her gender in order to be a king people would accept, and... about rejecting who she used to be, throwing away her old life and attachments.

That was a visibly hard pill for her father to swallow, that his daughter despised her first life enough to actually repress her memories when given a single chance to be someone else. When he'd asked if he'd been that bad a father, they'd almost had another tearful embracing session, while she firmly dissuaded him of the notion.

After that incident, her father had gotten thoughtful and compared her situation to what many capes likely did in everyday life. Getting powers by way of what he described to her as "Trigger events", was not at all pleasant, and getting them in the first place probably meant your civilian life was shit. Cape life was an escape for just about everyone with powers. Unfortunately, because of the way powers were gained, it was inevitable from the start that heroes would be outnumbered. Most people put in a situation bad enough to "Trigger" were not generally inclined to take the high road. This was an unfortunate truth of human nature, they agreed.

Her "Trigger" was an unusual one, even among the known examples. Her father told her that the only other cape he could recall, who had permanent mutations but still had memories, was a noncombatant, named Canary, who stayed out of the cape scene to put her powers to use doing something she loved, making music, a fact Artoria approved of greatly. Though Taylor concluded that what she had experienced was most likely not a Trigger event at all, Danny insisted that no-one would likely believe her and might even attempt to have her committed if she was too insistent. As far as anyone would be concerned, she would just be another Case-53, except without the memory-loss or infamous tattoo.

That had led to her demonstrating her magic and ability to summon and store her combat gear. She told him that it was possible for her to learn more magic on her own, but she had almost zero aptitude for the art with her ridiculous reserves and was often made to brute-force her way to success with spells through sheer power.

To say the least, he had still been skeptical, but he hadn't refuted her claim as impossible. After all, no-one really knew where powers came from or how they worked. Who was he to say she was wrong. Perhaps all powers were magic. Perhaps other people had lived other lives during their Triggers, only to forget those lives upon returning. Maybe Case-53s were just people, who had forgotten too much.

It was an interesting theory, but Artoria didn't put any stock in it personally. She wouldn't say it was impossible, but the sheer magical energy required to set up a system to operate that kind of power-granting on such a massive scale was... mind-boggling to say the least. Even someone like her, who could only generously be called a third-rate magus, could see that. A spell like that would be on the level of True Magic.

They had left the Dockworkers Association soon after that, electing to claim to anyone who asked that Danny was simply giving her a ride home, rather than let her make another trip alone through questionable parts of town late in the day. It was even technically true.

As she stepped out of Danny's beaten, old pickup truck, Taylor took her first look in decades at the house that had been hers for the first fifteen years of her life.

By this era's standards, it was rather unimpressive with chipped paint, a broken step, pipes that rattled and rusted, and a furnace that no longer functioned. It was a house old enough that it had been owned by her grandparents during Brockton's Bad Old Days, and though it may have been far out of date for this time, it would have been a modern marvel in her prior one.

Give it an extra floor or two, a new coat of paint, and repair the steps, and -thanks to the marvels of running, heatable, water, a gas stove, and electricity- it would have been a residence fit for a medieval lord. As far as she was concerned, it was the best place she'd ever had the pleasure of laying her head. Not even the comforts provided to a king afforded the same ease of living as a modern abode.

Of course, the whole lack of servants was a thing, but it couldn't be so hard to relearn how to cook the food of the modern era... Right?

...

Right?

Shaking off those thoughts and her fears for the kitchen's wellbeing under her not-so-tender mercies, Taylor approached her house, reflexively skipping the broken step, while Danny locked the truck. As she got to the front door, she habitually reached for her currently nonexistent pocket-

-and abruptly stopped.

Now that she thought about it, what had happened to her effects from this world. Wasn't... she shoved into her locker while wearing her backpack? She couldn't quite recall if so. It was a really long time ago. It seemed like something of a stretch that they had managed to fit her in there with that much extra mass in the way. Rather, even were that the case, she should have had her home keys in her pocket. She hadn't seen her previous clothes laying in the waste that had spilled from her locker, so where were they?

She blinked and mentally berated herself. That... would have been the perfect thing to convince her father of her identity with. As Danny walked up beside her and withdrew his keychain with a rattle, she turned to him and put a halting hand up.

He gave her a questioning look. "What is it?"

The flat expression that Artoria answered him with looked a little dead inside. "Father, only now has it occurred to me to check my inner... stuff-space for the effects I had on me, when I was shoved into that vile locker. In this way, I suspect I might have prevented much unnecessary... drama, as it were, had I made use of it during our reunion."

She held out her right hand, mentally tapped the space inside her, and pulsed her magic. In a flare of blue light, a small key, belonging to the door before her, instantly flashed into existence in her palm. With pursed lips, she inserted the key into the door lock, turned it, and removed the key. She turned the handle, and the door opened easily.

Artoria sighed aloud in frustration with an eye twitch and resisted the brief urge to bash her head against a wall... mostly since she suspected her head would now emerge overwhelmingly victorious from such an exchange, sending the key back to whence it came. Danny led the way inside with a small chuckle.

"Alzheimer's is hitting you pretty hard in your old age, eh?" he asked playfully, as she closed and locked the door behind them.

Taylor refused to dignify his question with a verbal response and simply elected to send her father an aloof glare that was, thankfully, without any real heat behind it. Whether on purpose or not, he didn't seem to notice her open reproach, as he set his work bag against the wall and slipped off his shoes, causing the former king to huff silently and pad along behind him into the kitchen on sock-clad feet -after storing her own boots in her stuff-space, of course.

As they entered, Danny made his way over to the fridge and withdrew a frozen dinner from the freezer, causing the girl to freeze in place. At the very thought of food, a low rumble echoed through the room, leaving only dead silence in its wake. Artoria's cheeks pinked a bit, as Danny gave her a long look. After moment, he chuckled. "Well, all things considered, that seems to be the appropriate response. All this stress has left me hungry too. How do you feel about lasagna, Taylor?"

Cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, she could only nod.

One quick tutorial/mental refresher on how to use an oven later, along with the heating of said oven, and the frozen lasagna had been inserted and the timer set. It would be a little less than an hour before it was done, so Danny thought to put together some quick appetizers.

It seemed salad was the name of the game today, as the pair took a large serving bowl and poured in some lettuce and seasoned croutons, before mixing them together thoroughly. Unfortunately, despite her enthusiasm -or, more likely, because of it, Taylor ended up relegated to opening a can of olives and another of small tomatoes, while her father grated a carrot, since her monstrous strength had caused her to accidently pulp the first vegetable she took hold of, yet not the grater, itself, out of pure luck. There was a bit of a silver lining though; now, she knew where the paper towels were and was once more adept at using them to clean up messes. The trashcan fed well that day.

The father-daughter duo eventually sat down to eat with Danny currently more than a little amused at the glint in Taylor's now matching pair of green eyes, as he served the pair equal portions into a duo of smaller bowls. That expression of his became one of shock, when he finished portioning the appetizer and blinked, only to apparently miss his daughter veritably inhaling her half of the salad in a blast of movement that actually elicited a small breeze and ruffled his hair. By the time he had picked up his eating utensils, she was wiping crumbs off her lip with a small paper napkin and looking at the timer on the oven with a positively feral glint in her gaze. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't even halfway done.

"Wow."

She blinked at him.

"I've seen my fair share of growth spurts, but if you actually start aging again, yours is going to be a doozy."

Taylor pinked slightly, before straightening up her posture. "Well, you never know where your last good meal will come from on the battlefield. War and magic require energy, after all. Hunger is the enemy of every warrior."

Danny raised a brow at that, as he finally tucked in to his salad. A few ponderously chewed mouthfuls later, he hummed in thought. "Well, you could have at least taken the time to enjoy your food. It would have probably made the wait for the main course more bearable, and you would be able to eat more once it arrived... and hopefully enjoyed that too, of course." He chuckled and then got a cheeky look on his face. "And now, you're stuck, still hungry, and having to watch me eat."

Taylor spluttered, resisting the urge to pout, as she shot him the evil-eye. She huffed. "Mayhap that is well the case. However, it is sometimes best on the battlefield to be incapable of tasting what you are putting in your mouth, no matter how nutritious..." She shuddered and gained a far-away look. "Or necessary. So much salted meat... so much gruel... Verily, the bread would have done mine teeth in long ago without Avalon."

Choosing not to further peel open that particular can of worms in response his daughter's vaguely food traumatized gaze, Danny asked, "Avalon, like the legendary holy isle?" At her look, he snorted. "You weren't the only one who benefitted from Annette's profession."

She nodded and paused a moment, before sighing. "Something to the effect. Avalon was a scabbard, gifted to me by Merlin to sheath Excalibur. It was also magical and provided me with potent healing and a last-resort ultimate defense. In large part, my death can be put to blame on my carelessness in allowing it to be stolen, leaving me in a position, where I could finally be slain. In many ways, Avalon was a greater treasure than Excalibur could ever have been. In fact, at one point, Merlin inquired of me which I valued more. Immediately, I answered him that it was the blade, and he rebuked me quite heavily. At the time, I wrote off his assertion, but it seems he was proven right in the end..."

"Ah..." Danny trailed off into awkward silence.

Artoria shrugged. "I am beyond it by now. There is no point in trying to change the past; I can only look to the future and hope for the best. Avalon is lost to me, and I have made my peace with it and learned a valuable lesson in the bargain. There is a time, when every living being is reminded of their mortality. The day that, despite my skill in battle, Mordred drew up from the edge of death in a fit of sheer grit and spite to leave one final, fatal wound on me... was mine." She blinked. "Ah, but my apologies, father. Even among the blooded company of the Round Table, that is a dour tale fit only to sour appetites."

Danny shook his head and immediately took another bite of his salad as though to assure her that wasn't the case. He swallowed pointedly. "It's alright. I've dealt with more than a little unsavory business in my lifetime. This is Brockton Bay, after all; we've got one of the highest numbers of capes per capita in the world, and I've been around since the Bad Old Days."

Taylor blinked. "The Bad Old Days?"

"Yeah," Danny answered with a grin. "We still had the Empire putting down roots back then, but we also had the Teeth and the Marche to keep them in check, instead of the Merchants or the ABB. You know the Teeth?" Taylor shook her head. "I would be surprised if you had. They were some pretty nasty characters, killing almost indiscriminately and at will. They even used the bones of their kills as trophies sometimes. And the reason they couldn't be definitively ousted was because of their leader, the Butcher. Anyone who killed the Butcher got the voices of all the previous Butchers stuffed into their head to drive them insane and turn them into just another lunatic killer in the cycle. What's more, the Butcher keeps every power one of their lives has ever had, even if notably weaker. It's a nasty, effective combination of powers they have. In fact, despite being driven off all the way to Boston, the Butcher is still around to this day."

Artoria scowled. Barbarians, every last one of them. Not a one of them deserved more or less than a swift and keen blade to the jugular. "What a terrible and potent power. What finally drove them out?"

Danny frowned. "The Slaughterhouse Nine came to town and pretty much wiped out the entire gang, aside from the Butcher."

Even now, Taylor well remembered the household name with dread and righteous anger. The Slaughterhouse were a powerful band of wandering, murderous capes, who struck terror into the hearts of the populace, killing for fun and just because they could. "The power vacuum certainly didn't stay empty for long. Is that what also became of the Marche?"

Danny caught the expression on her face and nodded. "You're right about the power vacuum, but nope." Danny actually grinned. "The Marche played one of the biggest roles in driving them away."

Taylor sat up straighter. It sounded like she was about to hear something interesting.

"To be honest, if I had to absolutely choose any one gang to remain a permanent fixture of Brockton Bay in exchange for the removal of the others, I'd have picked the Marche hands-down every time. The Marche only had one cape, but the one they did have was very good at what he did, too good even. He was called the Marquis, and the only reason he was ever brought in at all was that our local independent hero team, New Wave, who were going by the Brockton Brigade back then, tracked him to his civilian home and ambushed him in the night. He went straight to the Birdcage afterwards. In any kind of straight fight, he was a one man army, and he took on all comers and came out victorious. He even -get this- had an actual code of all things, a code he made his gang follow to the letter. No matter what else they might have done or how many good men suffered, women and children were never to be harmed under any circumstances. Plenty of people tried to take advantage of that by sending women at him in a variety of ways; we even had a mostly female Protectorate back then, thanks to him. Despite that, he always came out victorious and without really harming the women either, no matter their intentions. However, he did think rather little of killing heroes and did just that many times. The Slaughterhouse Nine actually tried to recruit him during their visit or, at least, force him to break his code. Not only did he refuse, but he took them all on alone and came out relatively even. It was actually close enough that those crazy murder-hobos fled. And, mind you, the Slaughterhouse had already picked up the Siberian by that point, so it was pretty big deal."

Artoria nodded. Despite his obviously criminal inclinations, the Marquis sounded like worthy opponent and was obviously a man of his word. Depending on what exactly his crimes were, she might could even see him as a respectable noble lord in her former time. After all, the Dark Ages had rather more simple and brutal standards.

"In any case," Danny sighed. "While the Dockworkers Association was more at threat than most from him and his protection rackets, considering our almost entirely male workforce, he, at least, wasn't a Nazi-wannabe -German or Asian-themed alike- or running a gang of crazed drug fiends. There was even this one bar he established..." Danny paused in thought, before snapping his fingers. "Somer's Rock, that's what it was called. The Marquis, at some point, took Brockton's villain population and introduced almost a sense of civility with a neutral ground for negotiations to take place at. Considering which gangs resided in the city at the time, the fact that he managed to make it actually work is nothing short of amazing. It's a little legacy of his that is still standing and used by the current generation of gangs to this day."

Artoria blinked and shook her head. This warrior sounded more amazing by the moment. With power, principles, and charisma like his, he could have surely been an amazing hero. It truly was too bad. She would have liked to have met him at least once, even if it was at the ends of clashing blades. Unfortunately or not, the infamously inescapable Birdcage made that a pipe dream. She shrugged inwardly. Regardless, it couldn't be helped. Despite his standards and honor, he had been a villain with a body-count massive enough to get him sent to the ultimate prison for it alone. Of course, considering her own body-count... Could she really judge others for killing for a supposedly just cause? Could she afford to be judged? No, she wouldn't allow others to judge her for slaying evildoers in the name of protecting the victimized. Similarly, unless they targeted the innocent, she would not judge others for such.

Her expression darkened by a small degree. Well, she didn't know what Marquis's motives had been. No system was perfect, no matter how it appeared, and now... She sighed. Damn it all, now she was curious. Luckily, information was something shared freely nowadays on the marvel that was the internet. She would have to look him up at some point... and, while she was at it, also refresh her knowledge on the current capes, who made Brockton Bay their home, especially the "villains".

"Point is-" She was jolted from her thoughts by her father's voice. "I've been around the block, "seen some serious shit" as it were. Make no mistake, they were called the Bad Old Days for reason. The Protectorate and PRT hadn't been well established yet, the Birdcage was more of a rumor than anything else, which wasn't being taken seriously, and villains back then were pretty confident in getting away with whatever they wanted to. A lot of good people died, and Marquis was one of the most prolific murderers out there, pretty much casually killing any person, who even mildly displeased him, it seemed. However, despite all of that, he was the ultimately lesser evil, and that drew people to him, regardless of the risk to their own lives. A lot can change in twenty years; thankfully, the standards for what a villain can get away with are one of those things. Doesn't change the fact that there are still villains, but something is better than nothing." He speared the last of his lettuce atop a crouton and imbibed it, swallowing a few moments later. He settled his fork back in his bowl with a small clatter and grinned. "So, don't you worry about taking away your old man's appetite with a story as mild as that." He gave a small wink, and Taylor smiled in response.

They spent the rest of the wait for the lasagna engaging in small talk and just generally trying to regain a better feel for each-other. All too quickly(too slow for Artoria's tastes), the old oven finished its labor, and the lasagna was removed, divvied up, and disposed of much the same way as the salad had been -in that Artoria consumed her portion only slightly slower than she had before.

However, when she had done so and allowed herself to taste her meal in full... Her toes actually curled in pleasure a bit at the mere memory of it. Stacked layers of thick pasta, soaked in tomato sauce, packed between layers with ground meat, and inelegantly slathered with a layer of melted cheese atop it all. There might very well have been tiny tears of joy in that memory. Despite her best attempts to remain impassive, she had quietly moaned a little in sheer bliss at the experience her taste buds were having -to Danny's unending amusement ("Was food back then really that bad?") and Taylor's flat chagrin ("Yes."). Truly, her former era's food had nothing on this one's; only now could she truly appreciate why she had always found her own royal chef's food to be distasteful, no matter how finely prepared. Of course, she had politely refrained from making that opinion known, considering his cooking was still leagues above battlefield rations, but it was still unpleasant to some corner of her mind, which kept trying to compare her meals to others she refused to remember. It was finally apparent now why that was.

After the lasagna was vanquished in its entirety, Taylor found herself relearning to wash dishes the modern way and then taking a bath in hot water for the first time in decades.

It was glorious.

The bottled body soap and hair shampoo certainly only made things even better! Intimately aware of the potential water bill, however, she was forced to make sure to seal the drain and simply let the tub fill. After that, she had enjoyed a languid soak that nearly lulled her to sleep with its tranquility and encompassing warmth in concert with the comforting, wafting smell of scented soap. Aches she hadn't known she'd had melted away, and her scalp hadn't felt as clean in literal decades. If this was what it was like to cleanse oneself in this time, she solemnly swore to herself that she would never skimp on washing away the days' grime before bed. Truly, she hoped the novelty of these baths lasted for a good, long while.

On a side note, Artoria discovered she could, in fact, remove her clothes completely to store them inside her stuff-space. Also, doing that removed all the filth they had gathered, so they were in prime condition upon being retrieved again. Convenient as all hell, but she would have to make sure she always had a general replacement in mind, when changing outfits in public -just in case. Otherwise, things were liable to get awkward.

Seeing her room again was honestly... a little depressing with how drab and almost generic it was. Plain bed sheets greeted her along with posters of various heroes, Alexandria and Armsmaster seemingly chief among them with the biggest wall displays, complete with names under said pictures confirming that those were, in fact, who she vaguely remembered them to be. There were also a pair of action figures beside a digital alarm-clock on a bedside table. Aside from that, there wasn't much else going on in her room. It all felt rather impersonal and... concealed, as though the resident had felt the need to keep as much of their valued possessions out of immediate sight as possible. She frowned; that would change as soon as was convenient. No knight -or person, for that matter- should have any reason to be ashamed of their legitimate and good accomplishments and possessions, and she would be damned if even a former king, like herself, were to languish in such a depressing atmosphere.

Going through her old, dull clothes in all the shades of black, grey and faded blue was something of an irritating journey through the land of teenage angst. She sure had been a dark, little brooder, hadn't she, before her reincarnation into another time of magic and dragons had gotten her to shut up -and literally nut-up at one point ("Damn you, Merlin!")? More and more, she was starting to realize her old self had been something of a, well, naive and hopeless fangirl. The persisting Armsmaster underwear, for one thing, were going to die in a fire the moment she had something to replace them. She did take a bit of vindictive pleasure out of realizing she would need new bras, probably in upwards of two sizes ("Suck it, Emma! I can be hot too!). Ah, whoops there, Taylor, stop worrying about the crazy ginger. You have nothing to prove to that impudent wench.

Or did she?

Artoria was forced to pause in thought, momentarily putting aside the issue of the disturbing teenage girl underwear and their indications. There was pretty much no way she was going to realistically be able to conceal her "powers" from anyone, thanks to her physical and mental changes... but mostly just from the busted school locker and footprints in the tile. Anyone, who had been witness her getting shoved in there, was going to know who was responsible for the damage, especially considering the locker door was obviously bent from the inside.

Looking back on it, if she had wanted to live a quiet life, it probably hadn't been the wisest for her to go roof-hopping in broad daylight without a mask... Meh.

She huffed. Well, why should she bother to hide her face? Why should she attempt to hide her powers? Those insignificant children that proudly called themselves her tormenters had gone after her because they perceived her as an easy target, but now she was a threat. Instead of feeding their delusions of still having power over her, she would just have to flaunt her power openly in the faces of everyone. She would just have to... what was it called... "take refuge in audacity?"

That sounded about right. And, really, with her physical changes, it was the only option she had, aside from trying to withdraw from Winslow and homeschool herself. Even if she did that, her "powers" would still be an open thing. Better to simply take this challenge, like she had all others, and charge it head-on.

She would have to reuse that part of her that was the King of Britain and use it to her advantage conquer this unorthodox battleground. Winslow couldn't cover this up any more if they tried to make issue with her. If all else failed, she could make it a PRT matter. The PRT were a police force after all, no matter how overblown, and, surely, they wouldn't do nothing if corruption like this was brought to their attention, especially the kind that saw people thrown into what was almost certainly toxic waste. Since she was a "parahuman", any matter involving her would be relegated to them anyway.

Unfortunately, reconsidering it, she realized the garbage in her locker would probably be cleaned up by tomorrow to cover-up the incident, so it would be unable to be used as evidence of the faculty's negligence. If they were audacious enough, the school might even try to go after her for her accidental destruction of school property. She considered it unlikely though; if they were as corrupt as she suspected, Winslow probably wouldn't want to draw outside attention to the matter. They might even have a replacement door on her locker and the whole thing practically airbrushed clean by tomorrow.

Taylor shook her head in distaste.

It seemed that she would be unable to make use of this incident to bring justice to Winslow. However, if the bullies felt they had gotten away with the entire criminal venture, they might believe they could get away unscathed from escalating even further still. If they attempted to do so, however, she would be ready for them.

Despite her inclinations to leave it behind her, she was still a King in habit -and a full-grown woman in mind, and she would not allow the petty torments of mere children to interfere with her getting a good schooling, graduating, getting a good job, and living a decent life with her father.

And on that note...

Before hitting the hay, she'd dug into the depths of her stuff-space once more. As was apparently her rather unusually good luck, not only did her stuff-space contain the clothes she had been wearing before being stuffed in The Locker, but it also had her school bag and everything she'd had in it. The most important things to her there in this case were her intact school books. It would have been inconvenient and a further strain on her family's delicate financial situation to have to purchase replacements. Also welcome were her school notebooks and homework.

It was a bit of work going through those things and the many scholastic concepts she had left long unused. In particular, she grimaced at the thought of her next computer programming class. So many things in the Dark Ages had been scholastically behind what she was supposed to be currently working on at Winslow. Sure, while she may have been plenty up-to-date knowledge-wise in her era, it was going to be a struggle refreshing her scholastic ability in this one.

Lastly, there was her... hero notebook. The ratty, abused, and seemingly juice stained thing had more than a few costume ideas and powers her old self had dreamed of gaining; the "Alexandria Package" was waxed about almost poetically multiple times. It was a discouraging realization to suddenly be aware of her own new powers and acknowledge her new disinclination to use them to be the hero she'd always wanted to be...

She scowled. Someone like her would never be considered a hero by this time's standards. Someone like her would never suffer the status-quo to stand, were they to become involved. It was a delicate and dangerous game the heroes played, she realized, because if the villains decided they no longer wanted to play by the rules, the heroes would lose. However, despite knowing what she could incur, if villains interfered with her life... A grimace took up her face. She knew she wouldn't be playing by their rules if that happened.

The hero notebook was placed by her clock, and the room light was flipped off. After a minute or so, her golden locks of hair had been freed from their bun and braid, and she placed the blue ribbon atop the notebook, slipping into bed beneath the covers, the soft, non-feather based pillow feeling cool and comforting against the back of her head. However, alone with her thoughts, she sighed and frowned minutely, as she stared up at the ceiling.

She couldn't allow herself to become involved. It was for the good of the city. It was for the good of her father. It was for the good of the innocent citizens, who would be caught in the crossfire.

No matter what, the King of Knights and former monarch of Britain swore she would have a successful, normal life!

Perhaps she should have checked first for just what exactly constituted as "normal" for anyone by the name of Artoria Pendragon...

...Because, if nothing else, she would certainly get that.

AN:

I am honestly not sure what arc I will finally reveal what weapon(s?) I've decided on. She will get Rhongomyniad at some point, and I think I've already decided when she'll be forced to reveal it (probably not for an Endbringer btw). I don't know if Taylor will be getting into any cape fights next arc, but I've pretty much already decided how her first encounter with the gangs will go. And she won't have figured out she has weapons by that point either (or just won't be using one in that bit in order to hold back or something). I'm mostly writing this story in a "go with the flow" way. It'll get here when it gets here.

The Return Arc is the boring one, the one where we get Artoria's reintroduction to Danny out of the way and get her settled at home. The next arc will go full-tilt into the world of Worm from the start, probably starting with Winslow, and then... well, I'll not spoil that yet.

Next chapter is the Interlude and the end of the arc, which will set up some more of the plot.

In case anyone is wondering why Artoria is fascinated by and even slightly respects Marquis, it's certainly not for his way of ruling. He WAS a tyrant and killed a lot of people -almost at a whim sometimes; that can't be denied. He even freely admits to not being a good person. However, he did have honor, did have a code. The only time he is noted to have supposedly broken it was killing Allfather's daughter, Iron Rain; though, its actually debated whether he was telling the truth when he claimed credit for her demise. However, despite this, he actually is pretty mild by Medieval standards as far as morality goes. Some serious shit went down back then, and invaders were not kind in the least to the civilians that got between them and the defending army. Pillaging, rape, and wanton slaughter for fun were common, and Artoria had to deal with those atrocities often with the Saxons. By comparison, the Marquis -while merciless and generally uncaring- is a freaking saint! In comparison to the other gangs that have made their home in Brockton, his is literally the only one that could have ever been called respectable to a degree. Artoria doesn't admire him, but she can respect him, and she's interested in what kind of person he was. Regardless, she would still give her all to bring him down were he still around, but she could respect what decent attributes he does have while doing it. Still, unless some seriously crazy shit goes down, we'll not be seeing the Marquis in this story till Golden Morning.

As always, I welcome and invite constructive criticism that will help me improve my writing! Nitpicking without an offered solution is also discouraged. Again, try not to take every single bit of this story too seriously. I am writing for fun! :)