Dreams Remembered
It was nearly the exact same as ten years before.
Waver Velvet, his hair now long and well groomed, his facial features edged and strong, and a cigar hanging from his lips, looked nothing like the young man he had been carved out of. Ten years before, he met the man who had changed his life, for better or for worse, and now even the way he walked had changed completely.
His stride was calm and confident as he made his way across a back field of the church on the hill he'd found adequate as a ritual zone. It was near the cemetery but still in the forest, away from sight, and he had prepared another house in the city itself. This time around, he didn't need to rely on manipulating others to get what he wanted. He had become a richer man, and as an immediate show of this, instead of stolen chickens he carried a set of vials of his own blood that he'd been collecting for a while, just in case.
There was a circular section of dirt in the middle of the grass that he had cleared not long ago, made exactly to the specifications he needed. Waver stood in the center, gazing for a moment at what surrounded him. It was night, but a few candles along the perimeter of the circle showed Waver all that he needed to see.
With a flick of his thumb he popped open the cork that held one of the vials shut, and smeared the red liquid inside on two of his fingers, rubbing it along.
“Shit.” He muttered under his breath. He'd poured out all the blood by accident, and with that much lost he reckoned that he would have enough in the other vials to compensate. He just sighed and tossed the now useless piece of glass out of the circle, and from his red coat's pocket pulled a small knife. Its blade and handle were both metal, and it was just a cheap, small thing. He only needed it for this kind of situation, so it didn't matter if it had the sharpest or most durable blade. So long as it did its job, he wouldn't care.
Waver stood right at the edge of the circle and held his wrist right at the boundary between dirt and grass. With the little blade he slashed across his wrist, wincing at the pain but bearing it. A slow drip then a trickle of red fell down from the wound onto the ground, forming a large enough pool for Waver to use. He covered his wrist up in a tight cloth bandage, then continued his work.
He planted his foot right in the blood, and then dragged it along the circle's clear edge, pouring out his other vials as necessary, until the first etching had been complete. The candles were starting to burn low, then, their demise hastened by an unexpected nightly gust of wind.
“Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Five perfections for each repetition. And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead.”
Without so much as looking away from his task, Waver used up all the blood he had stored in his small collection, which had been exactly enough to finish the ritual's markings. He pressed a hand to the side of his head to ease the oncoming sense of vertigo from having drained so much of his blood when he cut his wrist. Taking in a heavy breath, Waver stood in the exact center of the space, checking his hand to make sure that the bruise was there. It was, and in a slightly different shape than before. Waver just shrugged, and looked to the stars above.
Just ten years before, a nineteen year old Waver Velvet had come to this town in the Far East, a long ways away from his home in Britain, in order to spite his teacher. He just wanted to show him that he was a capable magus, and so had read up on the Holy Grail War and stole his teacher's artifact. Using that artifact, a thick, red cape, Waver had summoned the mighty and grand King of Conquerors, Alexander the Great.
-x-
“No, you idiot!” He shouted at the tall, bearded man. “We're supposed to be fighting the Grail War, not breaking into libraries and making a ruckus!”
The man laughed. “Ha, is that true, my young Master? Would you say, then, that Homer and his Iliad have no place in a time of great war and struggle such as this?”
Waver crossed his arms, indignant. “If you have time to think about poetry in a serious battle, then you're doing everything wrong! We just need to defeat the enemy Servants and I can go get the Holy Grail. Is that really too much to ask, Rider?”
Despite his Master's words, the Servant's grin never faded. “Oh ho ho, Master. You do not see the beauty of it, to charge into battle with the words of a great poet on your lips.”
“Of course I don't; it's stupid!”
Rider put a heavy hand on his Master's shoulder. “I went on, with the Iliad in my left hand and my sword in my right – or, if I was riding on my horse Bucephalus, with the reins in one hand and the Iliad in the other. I would go into battle like this, chanting verses as the armies on the field converged just as I had planned them to.”
“That's impossible; no serious general would do something as foolhardy as that!” With each passing second, Waver was getting more annoyed with this Servant he had summoned.
Again, the man laughed heartily, his big frame shaking. “Perhaps, Master. Perhaps.”
-x-
“I make my oath here. I am the person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven. I am the person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.”
Waver coughed, and felt a sharp but familiar pain on his hand, and instead of making him recoil at all, it just made him chuckle. He had his palm facing down, his arm outstretched. He would accept the status of Master, a privilege and a burden at once, just as he had done ten years before.
Formally, his goal as set by the Magus Association was to capture the Holy Grail. As one of only two people still alive who had experienced this grand event, he was an immediate choice to partake in the fifth such contest. The ultimate goal was the Holy Grail, which could grant any wish, but Waver honestly didn't care for it. He was chosen as Master for another reason; the Grail saw him fit because he had a wish that, by a technicality, he did not even have to win the war to achieve.
He held his breath.
-x-
That morning, Waver Velvet descended the stairs of the Mackenzie's home.
“R-Rider!?” He almost fell backward when he saw his Servant, who was not only walking about like a normal person and not hiding himself from the world, but who had bought himself a white t-shirt with a picture of the world placed front and center, jutting out just as Rider puffed his chest up with pride, showing his purchase to his Master.
“Ah, do you like it? I noticed how Saber went around with modern clothing, and I thought that I could do such a thing. These modern styles are unusual, but comfortable, and having a map of the world on my chest will allow me to never lose sight of my goal!” He let out a grand laugh.
Waver's palm smacked against his face. “You can't just start wearing t-shirts all of a sudden and walk around like this.. I really ought to just put you in spirit form and lock you in my room!”
The giant Servant didn't even listen to him, and just started off towards the door, his pace slow, as if he wanted to enjoy the sights of the town in daytime.
“W-w-wait, Rider!” Shouted Waver as he rushed forward, trying to stop his Servant physically. “Where do you think you're going?”
“Outside, my Master, to show the people of this era their king! I believe they will appreciate a man such as myself.” He didn't even turn around when he spoke to his Master.
At that moment, Waver felt helpless, and just wanted to sink to the ground. His Servant, Alexander, was completely uncontrollable. He wished he had summoned an Assassin, or some Servant who would listen to orders and wouldn't be so boisterous and would be right on Waver's own sort of level.
“RIDER! At least put on some trousers before you go!”
Waver felt only his own suffering in that Grail War.
-x-
“Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance!” This last shout was a point of reminiscence for Waver.
He let out a puff of smoke from his cigar, and watched the fireworks of light that were exploding before his eyes. Though his face showed only stoicism and perhaps vague interest, Waver's heart was pounding inside him. His knees almost started to shake, as if the earth was rocking below his feet. Even though his Servant had not yet appeared, he was already in awe. He had seen this blinding show of lights before, and it felt like his life being projected before him.
He gulped.
-x-
“Saber and Archer, the last question of the banquet – is the king lonesome?”
Alexander the Great stood in the midst of the dirt and sand that swirled from his figure, surrounding him but leaving him completely visible to all those around. His cape fluttered in the busy wind, as he had donned his armour without a single person noticing.
Saber' frowned. “A king has no choice but to be lonesome!”
The King of Conquerors just laughed at her answer, breathing in the thick dust that whirled around the courtyard.
“Wrong, wrong! That answer is nearly the same as having no answer at all! Let me teach you two today what it means to be a true king!”
Reality itself was overwritten in that single moment as Alexander spoke.
Waver, beside his Servant and forced to his knees by this mad phenomenon, knew just what this was. He could tell, as he looked up at the bright, clear sky, the sandy battlefield all about, and the massive army that marched not far away, heading towards the king in red.
A Reality Marble, powered by the entirety of Alexander and his men, those people that had become his eternal friends, striving towards the same goal as he. They pledged themselves to him, and followed him even into death. Each and every soldier was a Heroic Spirit, but their connections to Alexander made them a part of him, just as he was a part of them. They were inseparable companions, and the entire scene made Alexander proud.
“This is not something I can do alone.” Said the man, explaining to his Master and those bewildered others who were gathered there how he could achieve such a feat. “This land is the land which my army once crossed, long ago. This vision is imprinted upon the hearts of my warriors, who shared in my joys and my sorrows.”
He turned to the grand host, who had gathered before him.
“The reason why this world can exist again is because it is imprinted upon all of our hearts; it is something we all share!”
A smile appeared on his face, and he gave a slow nod as he raised his sword arm to the skies, shouting as loud as he could.
“BEHOLD, MY PEERLESS ARMY!”
-x-
The recollection of that moment brought a smile to Waver's now aged lips. He didn't have the same youth he did ten years ago, and at times he felt as though he should be retiring and getting grey hairs across his face, but he still went on. He was Lord El-Melloi II, and he felt that title added a decade to his life, if not more. It was much to place on a man of twenty nine years, but he begrudgingly accepted it. Sometimes, he felt as though he didn't deserve the authority.
The light began to fade, and a figure remained within the circle, alongside Waver Velvet.
The figure was tall, muscular, had a thick red beard and hair, and had a cape that fluttered in the wind resulting from the sheer amount of power released by his summoning.
This was the man that Waver had pledged himself to.
-x-
“I don't have command seals any more! I don't want to be a Master any more! Why, why do you still want to take me with you? I-” Waver's words were simply cut off.
The King of Conquerors, Alexander the Great, smiled. Even though he had to look down upon Waver, as he was mounted on Bucephalus, he was looking at Waver as an equal.
“Whether or not you are a Master, you are my friend, and that will never change.”
With that, Waver could barely breath, and down his cheeks flowed tears, voluminous like a spring rain. Though he could hardly speak, he blurted out a few words.
“Y-you mean... even I can... can... be by your side?”
The burly man put his hand on Waver's shoulder. “You idiot! You've fought numerous battles with me; you are more than worthy to fight by my side and to stand abreast with any soldier in my army; to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a friend such as you is an honour!”
Waver's head had been hung down when he cried, but he lifted it up to look at the king, who was now offering his hand to him.
The two soon rode off, carried away by Bucephalus to the site of their final battle.
-x-
Waver exhaled, completely shocked. He couldn't speak; he could only stand in awe at the man who stood before him, as grand as he remembered.
“Alexander the Great... Servant Rider.” He announced, mostly to himself.
The king smiled. “Oh, so you know whom it is that you have called?”
The magus knitted his brow. The wind had ceased and the night appeared ordinary; the ritual circle was gone and the candles were all reduced to sputtering flames, just little points glowing red in the thick darkness. Still, the light of the bright moon above was all that these two needed to see each other. Indeed, the king himself who stood before his Master appeared to even radiate light from his magnificent figure.
But, something was wrong. “Eh? Of course I know who you are, idiot. You're my friend!”
There was a hearty laugh, and Alexander shrugged his shoulders. “You seem like an impatient one, Master! Perhaps our hearts will clash, and we will find ourselves both vying for dominion of the world? I am afraid I could not allow that.”
The Servant Rider didn't know that anything was wrong. Of course he didn't; he had been summoned to this world to fight for the Holy Grail, and that enough was right, at least to him. He continued to grin, enjoying his Master's presence, and that only frustrated Waver even more.
“You idiot!” He shouted, and he punched the king right in the chest. Waver was nearly a foot taller than he was ten years ago, but he still was short in comparison to the King of Conquerors. He lay his fist against the man's armoured chest for a while, even a minute, before either of them reacted to what Alexander saw as the strangest form of greeting.
“Oh? Do people in this age say 'hello' by bashing each other with their fists? What a delightful practice, I must say!” Alexander let out another of his kingly laughs, and he swung a blow straight at Waver's chest.
Ten years ago, the young magus would have taken the blow and been knocked onto his back, the wind thrown out of him, but not anymore. He felt the full force of Alexander's punch to his body, and he just absorbed it. In his heart, he wondered if the king would figure out his identity if he were just to beat him around, just like old times.
“You...” Waver swallowed the emotion swelling up inside of him. “You just don't get it! You're... you're my friend, remember? We fought together, and rode Bucephalus, and we saw your army, and we nearly won the Grail War! Alexander, please...”
Alexander the Great crossed his arms. “You seem very well informed on me, Master, but I must say that the history books do not say everything! Though, hmmm...” He scratched his bearded chin. “I was summoned in another Grail War? Interesting. Perhaps there is more to what you say than I had initially thought. I look forward to our partnership!”
Even with those words, Waver Velvet couldn't help but sigh, and he almost just dropped to his knees where he stood. So, his friend had indeed forgotten. That was the curse, then, of the Grail War. It was a system that allowed loopholes in all the wrong places, and no matter how hard Waver tried, he couldn't revive the past as it truly was. His wish had been granted, yes, but not in the way that he had imagined.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, and trudged angrily away. Alexander looked on, curious, but let his Master be. There was no sound but Waver's boots on the grass and the chatter of a few nocturnal animals. He breathed in the cool night air, letting it soothe his spirit.
Not far from the ritual site was the church cemetery, filled with tombstones and crosses of all kinds, all organized in neat, solid rows. Two in particular interested Waver, and he crouched down to get a better look at them. It wrenched at his heart when he saw the names, of two people who had helped him so long ago, even though they didn't know it. Then again, death was an inevitable thing, and there was no sense regretting the past. His lips curled into a sort of smile, and he looked up at the infinite sky above, dotted with more stars than anyone could hope to count. Those stars were so far away that pursuing them should have felt pointless to those astronauts who dared to dedicate their lives to the realms beyond Earth. But... even though the stars and the moon were so distant as to be unreachable, they were something to strive for.
Waver looked up at that especially bright moon, and reached his arm up, and shaped his hand as if to cup that white orb and catch it in his grasp. Life was all about endlessly following one's dreams, regardless of how far away there were. It was Alexander who showed him that, who showed that even the ever-distant ocean, so vague as to be only known in the dreams of those that followed the king, was worthy of being made a goal. Alexander, who could strive for such a thing and not give up hope... no one had affected Waver quite so much as that man. He and his soldiers always kept going, climbing every mountain, fording every river, fighting every battle – until they could finally reach their dream, their Oceanus. That ideal shook Waver to his very core, and he pledged himself to Alexander the Great, promising to stay by the king's side. Waver held those ideals in his heart, just as any companion of the king. And, even if the great man didn't remember what they had shared ten years ago...
Yes, he would grieve. Yes, he would shed tears. But, he would not have a single regret.
He felt his friend's hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, Master, can you lead me to some archives...?”
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Originally Posted by asterism42
