A/N: Okay, so this is my first time writing for the Fate/Stay Night fandom, so if I mess up anything, please tell me!

"Hear thee

I command thee to my side

And entrust my fate in thy sword.

Heeding to Holy Grail's refuge.

If thou surrender to this will and reason, answer my call.

Offer thine oath.

I embody Virtue in the Eternal World.

I chastise Evil in the Eternal World.

Thou art the Seven Heavens harboring the great spirit trinity.

Come forth O Keeper of Balance!"

Illyasviel von Einzbern shivered in her thin nightgown, snow swirling around her form in the thick of the Black circle before her flashed, and a pillar of light shot up to the heavens. After a few moments, the light vanished, and a figure was left in its place. For a long, horrible moment, there was silence, the only sound that of the howling wind and flurry of snow. Then the figure spoke.

"Servant Berserker is at your command, Master." The figure said politely, and stepped out into the moonlight.

Berserker… was smaller than Illya had expected. He was young, looking to be in his late teens at most, despite his bone white hair that was all too similar to a Homonculi's. His uneven white hair was tied back with a crimson ribbon, and his messy bangs framed a thin, borderline feminine face. A distinctive scar ran through his left eye, and ended by his mouth. The edges of a pentagram peeked out from behind a fringe of hair. He had the most spectacular eyes, like pools of mercury, tinted with the faintest trace of indigo. He wore a long, tan overcoat over a white button-down, dark trousers, and heavy-duty boots. A white cape made of feather-like material billowed from his shoulders, and a silver mask rested on the top of his head. He had the body of an acrobat and carried himself with the air of a swordsman.

With a flick of his wrist, the cape and mask disappeared, and suddenly, he looked almost human. He studied her with the air of childish curiosity, a slight smile on his lips. And yet, his eyes betrayed his war-weary years, the downright brokenness of the Servant before her, like those who have stopped expecting things from the world. They were the eyes that she had seen every time she had seen her father. If his eyes had been the same shade of blood red as her own, he could have easily passed as her older brother.

His smile vanished as he took in her torn dress and filthy form splattered with blood and dirt. He hurriedly took off his coat, and with two swift strides, he was beside her, wrapping the large coat around her petite frame like a blanket.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?" He chattered noisily, scanning her for injuries and the like. Stunned by his concern, Illya could only nod in her daze. Berserker let out a visible sigh of relief, and stood up.

"That's good to hear." He said. He gazed a her in thought, and she frowned. What was he planning? Whatever she had thought, went out the window when he swept her up in his arms.

"Wha, what are you doing?" She sputtered, startled by the sudden motion. Berserker chuckled at her confusion, and gave her a small grin.

"It's too cold for you to be walking barefoot, and this way we can move faster." He answered. Illya huffed, but said nothing, choosing to burrow into the coat instead.

"Here we go!" He chirped, and broke into a dead run, flinging snow up in his wake. Illya clung to his neck in fright, not wanting to be sent flying by the speed at which they were traveling.

This Servant was strange, but powerful. Sure, he lacked the size and brute strength the Berserker class usually had, but made up for it in speed, as demonstrated in his long strides as he ran. Yes, Illya found this one suitable for her needs.

She had no idea how much this summoning would effect the course of the Holy Grail War to come.