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"How can you stand to be around that guy?"
Smoke punctuated the question as Waver took a drag of his cigar, the weight of his words hanging in the air along with the pungent smell of tobacco. He sat, chair turned to face Iskandar, at the desk in their shared bedroom in Chaldea. His back was stiff as a board, and his legs were spread wide apart, a rather unfortunate habit he'd picked up in his attempts to seem more masculine.
Iskandar cleared his throat. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a pile of discarded snack wrappers and tangled appliance cords, a little tipsy from his time with a certain King of Heroes and a certain God-King of Egypt. From Waver's perspective, his position seemed terribly uncomfortable, but the ancient conqueror didn't seem to mind.
"Are you referring to Goldie?"
Waver nodded and took a deep breath.
"Don't get me wrong. I like spending time with Enkidu and Nefertari," Waver began, "but I don't understand how…"
As the Caster continued, he struggled to get his thoughts out, voice trailing into a stammer.
"I really don't get how you can stand the presence of that… Archer... after all he did."
Iskandar sighed and shifted his position, raising one knee to bear the weight of his arm.
"My beloved… Are you upset about the outcome of our battle all those years ago?"
Waver nodded again, looking away. With a wave of his hand, he de-materialized his cigar. It was a waste of a perfectly good cigar, but that was hardly important at the moment.
"You no longer have any need to be upset, boy. This is the manner of things between servants. Death is possibly the most significant event that can occur to a mortal, but — since we are no longer mortals — death has lost its meaning. What matters is that the two of us are here now. Alive and together once more."
"But that doesn't change the fact that he— He took you from me," Waver mumbled through gritted teeth. His hands gripped his knees in distress, fingers clenching into the fabric of his pants.
Without so much as a grunt of warning, Iskandar stood and began to make his way over to the desk. The Rider's gaze was fixed downwards in the direction of his Caster's face, but the latter's troubled eyes were hidden behind a shroud of hair. He still refused to make eye contact, staring down at his partner's legs as he spoke.
"He took you from me, and now, whenever I see him, the moment I lost you plays in my head on repeat. I'm tired of reliving that pain, over and over and over again, even though you're here with me. I can never forgive him for that."
Iskandar knelt down in front of the desk chair, cupping Waver's face in the palm of one of his oversized hands. Now, his gaze was fixed upwards, looking up at the portrait of grief before him. As soon as his weathered palm made contact with Waver's skin, the Caster locked eyes with his Rider, deep eyebrow creases furrowing as though the act caused him a twinge of pain.
"Listen, boy. Archer and I are comrades," Iskandar spoke bluntly. "Fellow kings. Friends, although he would likely deny it."
The ancient king punctuated his remark with a hearty chuckle.
"What he did to me during the war is inconsequential in the grand scheme of my life and afterlife as a Heroic Spirit. But, back then, you were just a boy!"
Waver's eyes widened ever-so-slightly.
"My death," Iskandar continued, "while only a blink for me, was a burden you were forced to bear for the rest of your life. The weight of that burden made you strong. There is no shame in that. But there is also no shame in letting the burden go."
After letting out a quiet sigh, Waver smiled miserably.
"If I were confident in my strength, I'd be able to let it go. But I'm not. Even after all this time, I'm still the sort of person who has to watch all the action from the sidelines, powerless to do anything in the moment."
As the Caster spoke, he began to choke up, words laden with emotion.
"And yet," Waver continued, "despite all of that, I don't want to lose you again. I'd do anything in my power to stop that from happening. So, I can't just let it go. That burden reminds me of why I'm here in the first place, why I made it this far, and why I have to keep going."
Iskandar smiled back, a sincere smile full of pride, and moved his hand from face to shoulder.
"Well spoken. Then hold fast to me, Waver Velvet. Stay by my side. Be the mind behind my might. Be my strength."
Those words, as always, brought peace to Waver's troubled mind. He nodded slowly, lifting his palms to rest on Iskandar's shoulders before pressing his forehead against Iskandar's. Like this, they were connected. Like this, they could be one.
"I will, my king. I promise."
Iskandar's smile grew, stretching across the crags of his weathered face.
"Archer will do me no harm here. I can guarantee that. It might do you good to speak with him after all these years. The two of you have much in common, and he would do well to make some new friends."
"That is," Iskandar added with a bemused snort, "if he ever stops pretending to have no need for friendship."
Waver swallowed loudly, nerves tensing up all over again.
"I can't make any promises there."
"But you will try?"
Waver rolled his eyes as he returned to an upright position in the desk chair, pulling his arms away from his partner to cross them in front of his chest.
"I'm not answering that."
Iskandar chuckled, warm and endearing as always.
"Fair enough, boy. Fair enough."
A certain Caster stopped in his tracks as he made his way through the halls of Chaldea. He was on his way to the kitchen to help prepare the evening meal, just returning from a late brunch with Enkidu and Nefertari. Their respective partners had informed the brunch crew that they would be in the common room, trying out a VR headset that a certain Rider definitely hadn't stolen from one of the other servants in an act of self-ordained 'Gamer Conquest'.
Really, how did he end up in this mess, and why was he standing in the middle of the hallway when there was so much to worry about elsewhere?
Oh, that's right. His situation had begun the same way it was supposed to have ended all those years ago — with the sound of heavy footsteps and the clinking of golden armor approaching him. The Caster's heartbeat swelled, adrenaline urging his body to take action: to run as if his life were at stake or swallow his pride and face the ghost of his past.
Despite everything, he stood his ground, refusing to turn around and confirm the presence of the face he could picture behind him with haunting clarity.
"Oi. Caster. Or should I say, Waver Velvet."
The servant once known as Waver Velvet merely grunted in acknowledgment.
"I demand a word with you."
"Let me guess," Waver scoffed into the empty hallway. "I have no choice, because you would kill me if I refused."
"Indeed."
With a resigned grimace, the Caster turned around, making direct eye contact with the Archer in front of him.
"Fine. Get it over with."
Gilgamesh nodded.
"Then I shall be as forward as possible. Waver Velvet, what exactly is your problem with me?"
Waver's heart skipped a beat. Was Gilgamesh taunting him? This had to be some kind of bait, laid out in front of him to lure him into a fight — or something unfathomable and much, much worse.
"Are you kidding?"
"If I meant to jest, my laughter would be powerful enough to fill the entire hall," Gilgamesh answered bluntly. "You know that. Answer the question or face my divine treasury."
Waver shook his head in disbelief, hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"You have to be fucking with me. What's my problem with you? What's my problem with you? My problem with you is that you slaughtered my king in front of my very own eyes all those years ago, and now the two of you are all buddy-buddy like it never even happened! You expect me to just get over something like that?!"
Before Waver could even finish his rant, Gilgamesh was already laughing. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed — derisive and belittling as always. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard to the Caster's ears.
Among all the servants of Chaldea, there was one universally accepted truth: each servant would be forced to grow accustomed to Gilgamesh's obnoxious laughter or suffer constant torment.
As usual, Waver opted to suffer.
"So, that is what this is about!" Gilgamesh shouted as though he'd just won the lottery. "I should have guessed. I realized something was amiss soon after I was summoned here, when I noticed all your glaring and the way you evaded my presence at all costs. However, there are plenty of second-rate servants who fear me. I only found your grudge to be worthy of concern when your Rider refused my advances."
Fueled by rage, hot and blinding in its fury, Waver's blood began to boil.
"Your WHAT?!"
"You heard me, mongrel. Your Rider refused my advances, and I suspect your grudge has something to do with it. I do not appreciate you getting in the way of my entertainment!"
Gilgamesh stomped his foot as he shouted, gilded arms folded across his breastplate. If Waver had been in a better mood, he would've likened the sight to a child throwing a fit over a toy. However, Waver was certainly not in a good mood. Not even close.
"You bloody bastard! First, you slaughter him right in front of me, then you show up in Chaldea acting like nothing ever happened, and now you're making advances on my husband?! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Drawn out of the moment, Gilgamesh's eyebrow twitched in confusion.
"Husband? This my first time hearing of such an arrangement. Do not get ahead of yourself, Caster."
Waver suddenly flushed red, sweat beading on his forehead as he began to stammer in embarrassment.
"I— I mean— Well, that is—"
Indecipherable as Waver's stuttering might have been, it was clearly the worst attempt at damage control in the history of the planet. Anyone could see that. Whether out of mercy or impatience, Gilgamesh made the choice to ignore it, returning to the main point of contention.
"Servants do battle with each other all the time. It is the sole purpose for our existence. Only a failure of a Heroic Spirit would hold a grudge over something so trivial as the death of another servant."
Frustrated tears pricked in the corner of Waver's eyes, threatening to spill over if he didn't get his emotions under control.
"I wasn't a Heroic Spirit at the time, you arsehole! I was just a kid! And you— And you took him from me!"
"I was trying to teach you a lesson, fool!" Gilgamesh snapped. "A lesson about what it means to be a hero! About what it means to have the life of the one you love most stripped away before your very eyes!"
Exasperated, the Archer shook his head.
"Clearly, the lesson was lost on you, because you still haunt these halls with your misery and refuse to be done with the past!"
Waver raised an eyebrow and scoffed.
"Oh, and you don't? I'm not the only one with reservations about the past. You just take them out on everyone else and blame it on your righteous ego!"
Before the Caster could restrain himself, he was shouting, arms outstretched in frustration as his wobbly voice echoed through the hall.
"You really think the other servants respect your bitter attitude and all your angsty whining? You may think you're acting like a king, but you're no better than a child!"
Gilgamesh's eyes widened in rage.
"Silence, mongrel!"
"No! I'm done cowering in the corner whenever you're around! You can't just—"
Waver's voice cracked. His fingernails dug into his palms as his fists fell to his sides. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, equally intimidated and ashamed of himself, but he pushed forward anyway.
"You can't just fuck with people's lives and expect them to brush it off like it's nothing!"
"Of course I can," Gilgamesh sneered, filled to the brim with haughty amusement. "That is what it means to be a hero. To live without reservations. To make war and seek pleasure without reservations. To die without reservations."
"Yeah? Well, things have changed," Waver snapped back. "Maybe that's what it meant to be a hero in Babylonia, but the standard for heroism has changed a lot in the past few centuries. By the modern definition of heroism, you wouldn't even be considered a hero anymore. With or without Enkidu, everyone would think of you as nothing more than a tyrant and a selfish brute!"
"You insolent fool! You dare remind me of my age?"
"I'm not afraid of you," Waver boasted as though he weren't trembling with fear at that very moment. "You're literally the oldest Heroic Spirit in Chaldea, and likely the oldest in all of existence."
Gilgamesh blinked in surprise before laughing again. This time, his laughter radiated a bizarre sense of delight. It stunned Waver, causing him to forget his own anger and fear while temporarily replacing those feelings with unprecedented camaraderie.
"You never cease to surprise me, mongrel," Gilgamesh chuckled with an almost genuine smile. "It is true. I am the most ancient servant to be summoned here, and the greatest by far. My legend is the blueprint for all other legends, surpassing each one by thousands of leagues."
If the Caster were a little less chicken shit, he would've rolled his eyes.
"Right, right. No one can measure up to you. So, can you blame anyone for wanting to deviate from the blueprint a little?"
Gilgamesh's eyebrows narrowed.
"I detect sarcasm, mongrel. Regardless, I cannot blame you."
Waver breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a weary smile.
"Can I go now? I promised Gray we could spend time together helping Emiya with some of the dinner preparations, and I —"
"Not yet," Gilgamesh interjected. "I still have a question that demands to be answered."
Waver grunted and nodded again, this time with his lips drawn together into a straight line.
"Yes?"
The Archer paused for a brief moment, seemingly regaining his composure or preparing his thoughts before he spoke.
"I do not appreciate rejection. As Ruler of Uruk, anyone who rejected me would face an immediate death sentence. So, tell me, mongrel. Did you order your Rider to reject my advances?"
Waver pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, nearly knocking his glasses off his face. As he took a deep breath, he attempted to steel his resolve and focus on coming up with an appropriate answer. As usual, his attempt was futile thanks to all the unstable emotions flooding his thoughts. Getting under Waver's skin was already easy enough, and Gilgamesh had a special knack for striking all the wrong chords.
The Caster twitched with palpable discomfort as he began to stammer through his response.
"No? I didn't 'order' him to do anything. He would've rejected your advances no matter what."
Waver paused to sigh before continuing his explanation in his best attempt at an even tone.
"We're... We're partners. I thought that much was obvious."
Gilgamesh cocked his head with a genuinely baffled expression.
"Why should that matter? Enkidu and I are partners, and that hardly stops me from seeking pleasure with all the men and women around me," Gilgamesh spoke plainly, as though this were the most obvious fact in the world. "The same goes for them, of course."
Waver looked at Gilgamesh as if he were some sort of alien.
Then again, considering all the absurdities the professor had seen in his relatively short life, an alien would've hardly been surprising.
"That's... not how we do things."
Gilgamesh's face twisted into an incredulous expression.
"What do you mean? Not how 'we' do things? You may have your head fuddled with modern nonsense about relationships, but Rider and I are ancient kings. Great heroes of legend. Making war and seeking pleasure is what we do," Gilgamesh explained before proceeding with his scathing condemnation.
"It is what heroes do, and you, Waver Velvet, are no hero."
In the past, the Archer's words would've cut deep, wounding the fragile pride of a boy known as Waver Velvet. But that was nearly two decades ago, and the man known as Lord El-Melloi II was hardly the boy he used to be. As he was now, the Caster could only sigh and shake his head.
"How many times do I have to tell you, old man? Heroes don't all look the same. Nothing lasts forever, especially not your bullshit standards of heroism. Times have changed, and so have heroes. Besides, I never claimed to be one."
Waver paused, considering his words carefully.
"Maybe Rider... Maybe Rider wants to pursue a different kind of heroism. The modern kind. You wouldn't know anything about that."
"A king? Pursuing a modern kind of heroism?" Gilgamesh chuckled, equally insulted and amused. "Impossible. That would be the same as relinquishing heroism, and no true king would ever relinquish their heroism."
"It's not impossible."
Waver swallowed loudly. He was about to make a calculated risk, but any risk involving the King of Heroes was bound to be dangerous. All he could do was hope it would finally get his point across.
"When Enkidu died, at that very moment, did you still want to be a hero?"
For once, Gilgamesh looked pained. His eyes widened, irises trembling with unspoken emotion, and his hands clenched into fists. Then — as suddenly as he'd opened them — his eyes closed, jaw tightening before he eventually spoke.
"No," Gilgamesh murmured, solemn as the legends written about him. "No, Caster, I did not."
"As I thought," Waver said evenly. "Not everyone is like you, Gilgamesh. Not even me, as much as you wanted to believe I was back then."
The Archer scowled, crossing his arms once more.
"I will admit," Gilgamesh began with a pause. The act of admitting anything was clearly straining the limit of his pride, but the King of Heroes was never one to surrender. He would continue speaking, even if it destroyed him.
"My actions towards you, during the war, were driven by… misdirected emotion. Perhaps I should have killed you as well. Spared you the suffering I once endured."
The Caster grimaced, running a hand through the greasy strands of his hair.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you didn't," Waver confessed.
As soon as the professor finished speaking, memories of his life after the war flickered before his eyes: Every moment of pain and loneliness. Every moment of happiness and success. The bitterness of loss. The joy of friendship. Sleepless nights hovered over his work. Brilliant students who joined his classroom and made the sleep-deprivation worth it. Every moment of doubt, every moment of failure, and every moment of regret. Every moment of pride in his dream, every moment of determination to continue down the path he chose — the path that would, one day, lead to that Great Sea — and everything in between. Those memories, combined into the experience of a lifetime, defined his very existence. They couldn't be traded for the world.
"He wanted me to live, you know."
Quietly, Gilgamesh sighed.
"I know."
Waver smiled. It felt uncomfortable — even wrong — smiling before the cruel tyrant who once slayed his king, yet... Somehow, Waver's smile was almost entirely genuine.
"So, I guess I should thank you for sparing me, as fucked up as that is."
The Archer shook his head.
"Do not thank me, Waver Velvet," Gilgamesh boomed, his kingly aura returning to him all at once. "What is done is done."
Waver nodded, slow and solemn.
"I can agree with that."
With a mutual agreement finally reached, the two Heroic Spirits stood in mutual silence. The space between them was heavy with words still left unspoken, but perhaps that weight would be lifted over time. For now, the Caster was desperate to retreat, but the words necessary for a polite parting evaded him.
Eventually, Gilgamesh cleared his throat.
"Perhaps, sometime," Gilgamesh began, drawing out each syllable, "you, Nefertari, and my Enkidu would like to join us three kings for one of our Royal Games of Ur?"
Against all odds, Waver smirked.
"Are you inviting us to a banquet of kings?"
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed.
"Do not get cocky, mongrel."
Unfortunately for Gilgamesh, the professor had yet to reach the full extent of his cockiness.
"My apologies," Waver murmured with a face nearly straight enough to mask his underlying sarcasm. "I graciously accept your offer."
Eyebrows twitching, the Archer seemingly chose to ignore the underlying sarcasm.
"Let it be so," Gilgamesh declared. "You had best prepare yourself until then, Waver Velvet. I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, and I will not lose to a common mage such as yourself."
Typical Gilgamesh.
"Right. Until then."
This time, instead of waiting for the King of Heroes to disappear, Waver Velvet was the one who walked away. This time, there were no tears to hold back, and the burden on his chest felt much, much lighter. This time, he was finally free.
It was a typical night in Chaldea. Several weeks had passed since the conversation in the hall. Waver had tried to discuss the conversation with Iskandar, or at least mention it in passing, but bringing up such a heavy topic was no easy task.
For starters, Waver was one of the busiest servants in Chaldea, constantly overworked during farming missions and dragged along to help solve the mystery behind every little disturbance. He'd demanded more time off soon after Iskandar had arrived in Chaldea, giving them a little more time to relish in their reunion, but most of that time was spent playing video games and engaging in the pleasurable sorts of activities Waver had gone without for nearly two decades.
By the time Waver returned to his room after a long day of work, he was too exhausted to initiate a serious conversation. On his rare days off, well… Between all of his and Iskandar's usual recreational activities — RPG speed-runs, movie marathons with Gray, and way too many rounds of sex — he couldn't be bothered to spare the King of Heroes a single thought.
Fortunately for Waver, his partner's nosy habits managed — yet again — to take the burden of initiating a difficult conversation off his shoulders.
"So, Goldie informed me that you finally confronted him."
Waver groaned. Iskandar had, as per usual, stayed late in the dining hall after the evening meal, chatting with his fellow Heroic Spirits before retiring to their shared bedroom. Sometimes, Waver stayed with him, opting to make conversation with some of the women* he'd accidentally befriended, but — more often than not — Waver retired early, taking advantage of his solitude to finish any paperwork.
That way, once Iskandar returned, the pair could enjoy their short period of rest to the fullest.
Since Waver had returned early, it was easy to deduce the time frame of the event that had incited this conversation. At some point between Iskandar's departure and his own, Gilgamesh had approached the former to discuss their conversation in the hall. From the sound of it, Gilgamesh had shifted the blame of initiating the dispute to Waver himself, but that was hardly a surprise. To the King of Heroes, what was the truth but another tool to bend at his whim?
Of course, that hardly stopped the Caster from being irritated.
"What the hell? He confronted ME! He was all offended that he couldn't get you to hook up with him!"
Iskandar laughed boisterously, slapping the palm of his hand on his knee.
"And that was enough to persuade you into chewing his ear off?"
Waver flushed and cleared his throat.
"Well. Yes. I can't fucking believe the nerve of that guy."
Iskandar brought his lips close to Waver's ear and dropped his voice down to a low rumble.
"You know, he also told me that you referred to me as your husband."
The professor's face turned as red as his lover's cape. He'd already forgotten about that simple mistake, and now it was back to haunt him. Maybe, one day, he would learn how to keep his embarrassing thoughts from slipping out at random.
Woefully embarrassed, Waver ducked his head down, grateful for the fact that Iskandar wouldn't be able to see his face from his seated position in the latter's lap. Even if Iskandar tried to peek, a canopy of hair would shroud his face. Then again, Iskandar could just as easily plop him up and turn him around in order to tease him further.
Fortunately for Waver, Iskandar was merciful — this time, at least.
"It was an accident, okay?! I— I just felt really defensive and possessive and I—"
"I mind not one bit," Iskandar professed proudly, pulling Waver closer to him. "Although, if you intend to go around saying things like that, we should go ahead and make it official."
At that moment, the poor Caster was almost certain he'd de-materialize on the spot.
"Riderrr!" Waver whined as he threw his face into his hands. "You can't just propose like that!"
"What, would you prefer I ask for your hand in marriage with a big, embarrassing proclamation?"
Through his partner's words alone, Waver could hear the sarcasm oozing from his smile.
"No," Waver moaned, sulking. "I wanted to be the one to do it."
Iskandar paused for a moment as he pondered the words just spoken. Waver silently cursed himself, realizing that he had, once again, let something embarrassing slip. He knew Iskandar wouldn't take it poorly, but what if his accidental confession somehow made things awkward? What if he somehow ruined everything? What if —
"Nothing is stopping you, boy. I can guarantee that our little Gray would have a wonderful time helping you prepare."
Thanks to his internal monologue being ridden with anxious thoughts, Waver defaulted to a pessimistic response.
"But now the surprise is ruined! You already know to expect it!"
"Pah," Iskandar grumbled. "If not for this conversation, you would get cold feet and put it off for months, or even years, until that little sister of yours convinced you to make a move."
Waver fumed, slamming his own fist against Iskandar's knee. Of course, it barely hurt, but it got the point across.
"You bloody plonker! How dare you!"
"You cannot deny it, boy."
"It doesn't matter! You're being so rude! You're such a... a…"
"Hm? Such a…?" Iskandar goaded with a cheeky smile.
Waver slammed the back of his head against his partner's oversized chest, then sunk down into his lap, simmering with the intense kind of frustration one can only feel for someone truly beloved.
"I hate you. I hate you so much. I wish I could hate you."
"I love you, too."
"Be quiet," Waver moaned again, drawing out each syllable. "I bet Gilgamesh is going to tell Enkidu about my mistake, and then they'll tell Nefertari, and then she'll tell Ozy, and then I'll never hear the end of it. Imagine! Both Gilgamesh AND Ozy laughing at me over a stupid board game! Chaldea would explode from all the bloody racket! I could just die!"
"You have lived through much worse," Iskandar teased, "but worry not, love. Your 'husband' will prevent the teasing from — Er, what was the expression? Coming out of hand?"
"Oh, fuck you."
"As always, you are more than welcome to do so."
Waver tilted his head back to get a better look at the giant of a man hovering and get him. Raising his hands, Waver gripped the giant's face, staring directly into his eyes. Then, without any warning, he pulled Iskandar closer, smashing their foreheads together with a little more force than originally intended.
At least the dull pain wore off quickly.
"I love you."
"I know, boy."
"Thank you for… encouraging me to… talk things over with Archer."
Iskandar sighed with a fond smile.
"You have no need to thank me. Already, you have encouraged me to conquer my own selfish habits and challenge what it means to be a king. You taught me, for the first time, how to put those I love before myself."
This was hardly new information to Waver, but he still felt like he was hearing those words for the first time. When Iskandar spoke of him like that — turning the foolish actions of a young man into something powerful enough to sway the heart of one of history's greatest legends — somehow, Waver felt powerful. Not in his own stead, but through his love for others: for Iskandar, for his students, for all those who helped him along the way, and maybe even for himself.
"So," Iskandar continued, "it is only natural that I should assist you in clearing the barriers blocking your own path to glory. Your fights are my fights, and my fights are your fights."
"We fight together now," Waver added, smiling.
"Always."