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English
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Published:
2017-02-22
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1,206
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1/1
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Afterimages

Summary:

Anyone would be introspective after what they witnessed in Caster's hideout, and anyone would have trouble sleeping. But the specifics of the feelings that are keeping Waver awake tonight might surprise even his Servant.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Waver knew he needed to sleep. He was in his pajamas with the lights out, moon high in the sky, thoroughly showered until he could no longer smell the blood and smoke and sewer on his skin, lying in bed with his eyes closed...and his heart pounding and his mind racing like those of a person who was definitely not getting any sleep tonight. No matter how well he washed, something about the stench of Caster’s lair seemed to linger harshly in the back of his throat, clinging to surfaces left raw and sensitive by stomach acid, and his limbs wouldn’t quite stop trembling at the memory.

Frustrated, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes furiously. Maybe a mug of hot tea…

He swung his legs over the side of the bed to make his way down to the kitchen, but his Servant seemed to have other ideas, materializing seated in a cross-legged position in the center of the room without warning and eyeing him with a stern expression. Waver noted distantly that he was still wearing his battle armor, minus the cloak. “You need to rest, boy,” Iskandar said reprovingly. “I’m not going to be able to protect you to the fullest if you don’t regenerate your mana.”

“I-I know that,” Waver growled, face flushing. “But I’m not going to get to sleep just lying here, so if you have any better ideas-!”

Iskandar shrugged, a gesture which Waver found inappropriately fascinating: before he’d summoned this servant, he would have said a shrug only used the muscles in one’s shoulders, but with the relatively revealing outfit his Rider wore, he could see the muscles flexing down the other’s torso as well. Without another word, he picked Waver up by the back of his pajamas and set the younger man in his lap. Waver’s face reddened further as strong arms wrapped around him, and he started to splutter - but the thick scent of warm leather was finally wiping away the horrifying stench that still clung to the inside of his throat, and he could feel his tension easing as the heat of his Servant’s body soaked into his slender frame. “Better?” Iskandar’s deep voice rumbled from above his head, and Waver could only nod.

“Y-yeah,” he admitted softly. It made him feel a bit wretched, to be treated like a child this way...but the truth was that he’d needed the comfort. “...Sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I already told you, I’d challenge any master who could see what we saw earlier and not be affected by it.” Waver couldn’t see Iskandar’s face, but the arms around him tightened just a little. “This age is a gentler one than when I lived; you have no reason to be accustomed to such things.”

Waver was silent for a long moment, just listening to his Servant’s breathing and turning this thought over in his mind. “...You were. You must have seen a lot of death, in the wars you fought…”

A pause, and he felt more than saw Iskandar nod. “A battlefield isn’t a pretty sight once the fighting is over. I’ve seen corpses trampled beyond recognition, bodies left to rot by cowards too frightened to return to gather and honor their dead, soldiers slowly dying of wounds that festered. Glory wouldn’t exist if we didn’t run the chance of ruin every time we chased it. ...I wouldn’t give it up, but...this simple life you have here, it isn’t such a dull thing as I’d have once believed, either.”

“You know this isn’t my house,” Waver deadpanned. “Even if they don’t remember it that way, I’m invading these people’s life just as much as you are. ...But you’re right, it’s...a nice place.” He sighed and shook his head, falling silent for a long moment. “...The Grail War, it seemed like a simple concept when I was reading about it. I knew I’d be facing other magi in a life-or-death battle, that I might - no, that I’d definitely have to kill them, or die trying. I thought I was ready for that. But…”

“The reality is a little different, isn’t it, boy?” Iskandar shifted against him slightly, and tilting his head up Waver could just barely meet his eyes, the red color more piercing by moonlight than it really had any right to be.

Waver shook his head again. “No. It’s not even that. I thought I was prepared for that too. I knew it would be hard, that I’d have to adapt to things I’d never had to learn to handle before. It’s not like I walked into this with my eyes totally closed. But…” He took a deep breath. “It was still...only business. With magi, sometimes that’s just how it is: unless I wanted to live my whole life keeping my head down, sooner or later I’d wind up in a situation where it was my life or theirs no matter what. And I thought, if I could take them out of the fight without killing them, that would be fine, too. I...I’ve never wanted to kill anyone. ...Until tonight.”

And as he spoke it aloud, he knew that was a part of the turmoil keeping him awake. The sick feeling from earlier was still lingering deep in his chest, but now that he was more relaxed, he could feel the cold rage that lay underneath it, a desire to deny life or mercy to anyone who could do such cruel things, especially to innocent children. He shuddered and looked away, curling into his Servant’s embrace a little more completely. “I want to kill them, Rider. I want them dead for what they did. Not just because they’re fellow combatants, not even because they’re a threat - because they deserve to suffer and burn for doing those things.” He took another deep, shuddering breath. “...And I don’t think I like feeling this way.”

Iskandar was silent for so long Waver was afraid his next words would be scornful, calling him a weakling for shying away from the intensity of his own righteous fury. Instead, when he finally spoke, his voice carried a warm tone Waver hadn’t heard from him before. “You’ve got a kind heart, boy,” he said. “There’s been enough soldiers I’ve known who get lost in that feeling. Some people learn to enjoy it, until they look for excuses why people don’t deserve to live, so they can feel themselves just in slaughtering them. ...Being uncomfortable with it means you’re not about to start down that path, and that’s a good thing.” He quelled any other reply Waver might have made with a large hand ruffling his hair. “Now, no more words. We’ll be hunting them both down soon enough, we’ll give them every bit of the fate they deserve, but only if you’re rested.”

Waver sighed his agreement and closed his eyes, not even bothering to ask his Servant to let go and let him get back into bed. Just for tonight...it should be all right like this.

Just as he slipped away from consciousness, he thought he felt something tickling his forehead, and what might have been a warm press of lips to his hairline.

Notes:

This fic largely springs from my attempts to consider Rider and Waver's relationship from Rider's perspective, which is something I've had a hard time doing in the past. It's easy to see what would cause Waver to fall for his Servant, and as Rider is generally a warm and affectionate guy, it's perhaps a little too easy to assume that he would reciprocate affection given, without examining his feelings in detail. So in the end, it came to the point that I wanted to give Waver a better chance to show off the qualities that would cause Rider to fall for him in return, above and beyond simply responding to Waver's feelings.

With all his screaming and flailing and sniffling, I feel it's also too easy to forget that Waver is genuinely fierce at his core.