In the forest.
Away from the cold walls of the castle, a little girl was running. As she ran, a pack of wild wolves was chasing her. Although calling them wild wasn't right, they were tamed by the magecraft of her family. Which, in fairness, only made it all worse as they were ordered to track and hunt down the white-haired half-homunculus child.
Illyasviel didn't dare look back. She ran as fast as her weak legs could take her. She knew they wouldn't kill, they weren't allowed to. However, her grandfather permitted maiming. Maiming to the extent of her losing a leg or an arm. It could all be replaced. So long as the bones and a few muscles existed, magecraft could reverse the damage to the point of her limbs being as good as new.
That didn't make it any less painful. If anything, it made experiencing hell a daily occurrence for the child. And that's what Jubstacheit wished upon her weakened psyche.
'Even if I make it out today, it will happen again next week…' she bit her lip and kicked the snow, frostbite be damned. 'It will happen again next month. And then again next year. And so on and so on… Until the next Grail War, grandfather… won't stop…'
Fresh tears froze against the cold winds. The mountain winds bit against her skin as she cried as hard as she ran.
Illyasviel hated it, she truly did. But there was nothing she could do to change the situation.
She could stop running, turn around and try to fight wolves with magecraft. But that would end in her defeat.
There were too many of them, while she was alone.
Completely alone.
Alone ever since her parents left for the distant lands in Asia. Alone ever since her mother died for the sake of their family. Alone ever since her father betrayed the Einzberns and ran away, leaving her at the mercy of her grandfather.
'If you want to blame anything, blame it on the man that tossed you aside like the rest of us dolls!'
Her grandfather's words stabbed a knife into her heart. She couldn't believe it. Would never have believed it. That man, her father, he wouldn't dare go back on his word. Sure, he'd tease her, cheat in their games, laugh at the expense of her mistakes… but he loved her back no matter what!
… … … Didn't he?
…
..
.
She didn't know.
Alone as she was now, and after all this time, he'd never once come back for her. It became harder and harder… to hold out hoping. To believe in the promises he made.
As the weeks turned to days and the lonely time she spent in the castle continued to grow, more and more, the pain started to numb her. When unfeelingness took over, all she was left with was anger. The anger she bottled up, never expressing, but always there. Always… always…
Illyasviel didn't know when she stopped staring out of the window, awaiting her family's return. She didn't know when she stopped crying herself to sleep. Tears no longer filled her vision, replaced by the blood that sprayed whenever she lost to whatever tests her grandfather put her through. Often the pain she felt in facing the wolves, if not live surgeries, were what kept her consciousness from drifting away into darker, emptier thoughts.
The blinding pain that burned her legs certainly kept her from seeing a root of a tree sticking out of the ground, causing her to trip and fall to an ice-cold bed of stone and dirt. The child's teeth clenched against the pain. Red dripping from a gash on her forehead stained the white snow.
'It hurts…' It always did. 'It hurts… mom… Kiritsugu…'
It always hurts to fall. But before, she'd always had someone to pick her up and comfort her wounds. Now though…
'It hurts…' It always did. But it would be nothing compared to the ravenous carnage brought upon her by the wolves that beset her.
From the number of the howls and the barks, Illyasviel quickly knew from experience that she'd have to spend a longer night in her grandfather's workshop. An entire sleepless night. Then, the day of the morrow would be even longer. Of when Jubstacheit would take his time to pull her apart then put her back together. She was to be 'recalibrated' to 'improved'. Over and over. And over and over…
Ah. It would hurt oh so much more than a mere scratch to the forehead. So, so much more… And there would be no one to save her from it all.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
'Please, no! Not again!' She slowly turned around at the sound of the growl. Fear had gripped her legs, but not her eyes as she faced those that wished her harm. The pack was creeping up on her. "No… please!"
In her words, their sharp teeth were bared. The wolf itself didn't even look all that hungry. It was all a reaction to her fear, no doubt designed by her grandfather in anticipation of a 'weakling's response' from her. She had to fight it. She had to hold steadfast against them. So long as she feared them, they would tear her apart. But… it was hard not to break.
The wolves… the look in their eyes… It was no different from the Homunculus dolls that filled the castle. Unfeeling, unsympathetic, empty. These animals were cruel because her grandfather ordered them to be so. The maids and her caregivers were just the same. No coddling, no care. No love, no nothing. A harsh world where only the strong would survive was what Jubstacheit wanted her to grow up in. To survive in.
But… it only made Illyasviel feel more terrified. Knowing that it was your fate for the next seven years. That it won't stop for years and even if it will, she wouldn't live long enough to forget about it all…
She was a mere tool. A flagrant last chance for her clan's eventual victory. All to be discarded the moment she'd fulfilled her purpose, win or lose. Such was the fate of Illyasviel von Einzbern.
And the closest thing she could get to closure was achieving said victory and getting the chance to avenge her mother and herself against the person her grandfather kept insisting betrayed them. For all this pain and agony, for the torment, he'd let come to her, for breaking his promise… Illya had no other recourse but to vow to get back at him… At Kiritsugu.
But for that day to come, Illyasviel had to endure this suffering again and again. She had to get better, grow stronger, and not fear the wolves as she did now.
"P-please…"
Only, she couldn't. Right now, at this very moment, surrounded by beasts with only a bloodstained one-piece dress in the middle of a blizzard, she had nothing but fear for her safety. Fear of the torture to come.
"A-anyone…"
At this moment of absolute hopelessness, all Illyasviel could do was start begging.
"Please… someone—!"
Not to the wolves, not to her father who won't hear or listen to her, but to fate itself. She begged for salvation.
"PLEASE! SAVE ME!"
…
Silence met her pleas.
…
Winter's cold shoulder bit against her tear-stained cheek.
…
And when the silence was broken by the emboldened wolves' first step towards her, she swallowed as she tried to keep her eyes shut.
Though it wouldn't stop them from ripping her to shreds, she could save herself the gut-wrenching image of seeing her limbs torn asunder.
For fate won't hear the cry of a little girl. Much less an abomination like her.
In the eyes of her family, her clan, she was but a mere vessel. An asset to the ritual. A tool of war. A chance at victory.
No one would save Illyasviel von Einzbern for her role was not to be saved.
And that was why someone else did 'save' her.
As Illyasviel trembled, cowering away to stave off the onslaught that was her near-death, the quiet soon came over once more. Gone were the hungry growls of the wolves, absent was their incessant biting and maiming of the poor girl.
Instead, as she peeked out from between her fingers, she noticed the animals surrounding her freeze in place, their glare aimed away from the little girl to something in the distance behind her. The moment their teeth bared even more viciously than when they chased her, Illya was forced to follow it.
There, in the distance, she saw something. A black silhouette was approaching her amidst the blizzard.
Calm and collected, unafraid of the danger that was her pursuers. The closer they got, the louder the magecraft-augmented wolves growled. The blizzard also created by magecraft mysteriously started to die down. That was odd in and of itself for it would only end should Jubstacheit make it so. However, the figure before Illyasviel wasn't her 'grandfather'. Not even remotely close.
Thinner, taller. The newcomer stood more confident whilst also moved more naturally than the human-shaped golem. Clad in a dark cloak with a strange helmet, the glassy single-eye-like face of it stared down at the poor girl. With the snowstorm wisping into the breeze, she could clearly see her own reflection on it. It was then that Illyasviel managed to snap back to reality.
What should she do? Try to flee? Hide behind her grandfather's creations? This person was clearly an outsider and the Einzbern hardly tolerated such. Moreover, during her 'training' of all things in the middle of a heavily guarded fortress. However, she didn't have any strength left in her legs. She knew she'd be unable to run, much less get up.
Despite only being part-human, her homunculi design was at its limit as well. She couldn't go on anymore. Illyasviel didn't know what to expect from this newcomer. An attack maybe. Some outsider looking to interfere in the Holy Grail ritual.
But the last thing she foresaw was for the man to cover her freezing body with his cloak. And she knew he was one when he spoke.