Uruk

The air was hot and dry, but the fragrance of a feast wafted through it like a friendly spirit. It was difficult for even Arturia to remain in her foul mood while she approached the great hall. Much like most of the architecture in Uruk, it was difficult to determine where the walls ended and the windows began. Everything was spacious and open to allow the outside in, even while elevated above the city, even while protected.

The great Babylonian king could have the best of both worlds, it would seem. It was all Arturia could think about as she and her knights accompanied her to their place in the hall. She found it strange that the Babylonians served their food practically on the floor, but with lavish and ornate pillows lighting up the sandstone halls with splashes of color and luxury, it was hard to see it as uncivilized or dirty.

Inside, Gilgamesh was nowhere to be found; instead sat a young fiery red-haired giant with a company of men and women. Arturia gathered this man to be Iskander, but were his company warriors, or advisors?

Consorts ? Arturia thought, eying the women, and some of the men.

Not that she was any better, having let Gilgamesh seduce her into this dalliance of lust and…

And...companionship, she thought sadly, as the giant of a king stood up to greet her.

"And you must be Arthur Pendragon!" he bellowed, his voice carrying well in the large sandstone hall. Arturia took a deep breath, tried not to think more about Gilgamesh for the moment, and put the face of a king on.

"Iskander of Macedon, I presume," she said with a good-natured half-smile. "An honor it is."

The Macedonian king navigated his way through the narrow space between pillows that was laden with a meticulously woven rug, and met Arturia before she could find a seat.

"The honor is mine, surely," he said, extending a hand, and Arturia gripped his forearm to hers with all the strength she could muster, which was still a fair amount. She had almost forgotten how strong she truly was.

"You've come a long way I see," Iskander continued, releasing her forearm. "How is the climate in Britannia this time of year?"

"Well, never this dry I assure you," she replied, allowing him to return to his designated seat. Noticing the Pendragon house colors of blue and silver pillows arranged on another third of the great cluster of arranged eating spaces, Arturia made her way there with her knights. The space for Gilgamesh was empty as of now, but soon, the familiar faces of Shukura and Kissare entered the hall and found their seat in a largely empty area. Gilgamesh would likely sit between them. Arturia tried not to look at the beautiful priestess.

Iskander, on the other hand, was the most active contributor to the introductions, getting to know the religious figures of Uruk. He asked them many questions about Akitu; many of those questions Arturia could have answered herself, having had Gilgamesh teach her throughout her visit.

It seemed she was betraying her own vow to stop thinking about the king. She could not stop, and it made her silent, it kept her from being present, from being an active participant in the conversation.

She would have to talk.

"The King of Babylon, Gilgamesh of Uruk!" a man at the entryway announced. The conversation hushed. Arturia felt her spine stiffen as the ruby eyed man entered the hall. He did not immediately meet her gaze, although his bright eyes betrayed him looking in her general direction. Even so, she stood to greet him, keeping her head held up. He was clad in his usual heavy red robe that hung off a single shoulder. Gold glimmered on every limb, nearly every index.

It was very much like how she had first seen him.

His gaze moved to Iskander as he stood, once again, to greet the king. Arturia stood as well, but did not move from her patch of blue and silver. She simply watched the two kings greet each other. Gilgamesh bore a small but charming grin when conversing with the young Macedonian. Arturia wondered what this foreign king was capable of.

Was he a potential ally? Or enemy?

Perhaps they would find out tonight.

"An excellent suggestion, this feast," Gilgamesh said as the young foreign king returned to his companions. They all sat close, all seeming quite friendly with one another, while Arturia and her knights exercised poise and modesty. She knew her knights loved one another, as brothers in blood, as protectors of the realm, but she hardly pictured them displaying such fondness for one another as Iskander's men did.

They came from different worlds. Part of the display made Arturia uncomfortable, the voyeurism of it all, but it drew out memories of the other king sitting across from her, of quiet moments behind locked doors. The breaths between kisses.

The way his voice sounded in her ears.

"My lord," came a gentle voice. Arturia cleared her throat and glanced to the side to where Gawain stared discreetly with his telltale look of concern. It was a gentle face for a gentle knight, that one.

"What is it?" she answered lowly.

"Are you well?" he asked, matching her quiet tone. "You look rather flushed."

"It's warm in here is all," she replied, tugging at the high collar on her tunic. "I'm well enough."

She could see out of the corner of her eye, Gawain and Gareth exchanging a look, but moved on as Bedivere began to note the design of the Macedonian armor and weaponry. The knights continued quiet small talk behind her until she cleared her head long enough to muster a way into the conversation, looking to Iskander.

"What brings you to these parts of the world?" she asked, reaching for a cup that was set there for her; as she did, a servant came up with two clay jugs. "Water please."

The wine would have to wait for her body and mind to cool down. Iskander observed her for a moment before replying, "I'm getting to know this great wide world and all it has to offer, now that I am king."

It was instinctual when Arturia and Gilgamesh exchanged a glance. Had he felt as threatened by that statement as she?

"I hear you've expanded your kingdom by quite a lot since your ascension to the throne," Gilgamesh added, sipping from his wine up. "You're proving to be quite the conqueror already."

Iskander simply smiled with friendly pride, leaning back against the pillows.

"With the great people of Macedonia behind me, we are capable of great things," he said. "We strive to be a thriving kingdom, and we certainly have plenty to live up to."

He gestured to Gilgamesh and then to Arturia, which surprised her.

"What do you know of Britannia?" she asked, wondering what could possess him to equate her small cloud shadowed kingdom to the golden empire under Gilgamesh's hand.

"That your people's roots run deeper than any tree in the west," he answered, reaching for his own goblet. "That they are resilient in the face of battering storms and harsh winters, of raids, and war. That your rocks and trees are so ancient they still hold the spirits of creatures old enough to remember the gods. That your God is a God of great power and terrible anger, yet also one of great love." He smirked. "Or...that is His son rather. I have not delved too deep into your way of faith."

Arturia found herself speechless by this harrowing description of Britannia. She had never truly heard it that way, unsure how she felt about his opinions regarding the Holy Trinity.

"I-" She hesitated. "That was… rather poetic, Iskander."

He grinned wide. Did he ever stop smiling?

"The arts make life worth living, Arthur Pendragon," he said, taking a big gulp of his wine. "I try to enjoy it as much as I can."

She found herself unable to pin down what kind of a man Iskander was. She wondered if Gilgamesh was having the same difficulty. She dared another glance over at him.

He was looking at her, and even then, her gaze flickered next to him where Kissare sat quietly eating and drinking while the kings conversed.

Did he enjoy being able to take her to bed?

What a stupid question , Arturia thought to herself, and then finished off her water. The idea of something like that was unheard of in the church, at least among those who were truly faithful, with chastity being a common vow taken. She couldn't imagine acts of faith being tied to such intimate actions, with a person of the cloth, no less.

Although, there were plenty of things she was doing that could have her ousted by the church, her very existence being the first on that list.

"Wine," she requested, lifting her cup, and a servant approached.

"Wait," Gilgamesh called, and the servant stopped. Arturia looked his way.

"What?"

"Bring the wine from my treasury," he said to the servant. "My favorite. I promised this fine man here a taste of the best Babylon had to offer." He extended a hand to Iskander. "And our other guest, of course."

"Well that sounds like an offer I can't refuse," Iskander said with a hearty laugh.

Arturia met Gilgamesh's fiery red gaze. Was it a challenge? A peace offering?

"Well," Gilgamesh continued, shooting Iskander a wide grin. "He did once speak of having a rather resilient constitution."

A challenge then.

Arturia felt a flicker of fire in her chest, until she heard a snickering whisper behind her.

"I don't think those poor saps know what they're getting themselves into," Gareth jested to Gawain, who suppressed a smirk. Even Arturia hid a small curl in her lips, when all the while her anger bubbled again. She was unable to tell if he was testing her, or being the way he always was around her, challenging her, but with a smile, and a flare of desire behind his eyes.

"I did say that," she answered to Gilgamesh's claim. "And I still do." She lifted her empty cup to him, waiting for the servant to return. "Are you still up for the challenge, fellow kings?"

Gilgamesh smiled, and Iskander let out an infectious laugh,

"Oh, this is going to be fun."

Fuyuki, Japan

It was late as Rider soared across the sky, with his Master, Waiver, nestled close to the wall of the chariot he called Gordius Wheel. For the early part of the dark evening, all seemed rather normal.

But, it was at night when the war for the Grail was the most violent, like sharks to a dark bloody ocean; it would not stay quiet.

"Is she following us?" Waiver said over the roaring wind whipping past the magical chariot. Iskander glanced down at the boy, and then behind him at the winding Japanese road beneath. At this hour, few cars populated the surface of the city, that was, save for the single bright light of a motorcycle that sped expertly through the treacherous curves of the cliffside roads.

It was Saber. At last.

"Hah!" he laughed, gripping the reins to his oxen. "Well, I suppose we don't have to go looking for her now, do we, boy?"

Waiver winced like he always did.

"Tell me," Rider continued. "Do motorcycles normally go that fast?"

The spindly young man gripped the side of the chariot and leaned forward to look. His eyes, while they looked bland and innocent, were still magic, and could sense it. If anyone could smell something out, it would be Waiver.

"Definitely not," he said. "Something about her makes her ver qualified as a Rider servant too."

"That so? We'll see about that."

"I have no idea what she's actually capable of on that thing though."

Splendid , Rider thought, snapping the reins.

He thought back to everything he knew about the strange king, her motivations, her skills, the time in the great halls of Uruk where three kings gathered for a feast, long before they would in this Grail War.

Iskander was unsure which one he had preferred. He had not known Saber's identity as a woman then, at least not yet.

He scowled at the thought, and then glanced back at the hastily approaching Servant on wheels.

"Well then," he said, a wide infamous grin growing on his thickly bearded face. "Perhaps I'll have to make this more interesting for her. After all, we have a millennia-old argument to settle."

"What?"

Did victory belong to the ruler or the martyr? To the man who ruled his people or who allowed his people to rule him?

To Iskander, the answer was simple. Saber had surely seen as much while inside Ionioi Hetairoi, the power of his people, of his army.

There was a reason he was a conqueror. There was a reason he was considered great. He would show her that.

The chariot began to descend, and the boy Rider called Master made a noise somewhere between a cry and a squeak.

"Why are we going down?"

"Change of plans," he bellowed over the wind. "If she wants to give chase, then a race we shall have!"

Even as hooves and wheels hit the pavement, they maintained a terrifying speed in comparison to the magic fueled motorcycle. Perhaps this would be much easier than Iskander expected, but he could not help but wonder why Saber was choosing to pursue them like this rather than meet him head-on, face to face like kings.

Something was different this time. Something was perhaps even wrong.

"Uh…" Waiver's voice trembled even more as the chariot rumbled underneath him. "R-Rider?"

Iskander looked back again. The light had shifted and morphed, reflecting on a much closer, much sleeker-looking motorcycle, clearly magic. Even Rider could see that. It practically resembled a horse.

"Ahh, don't worry so much," Rider said, snapping the reins. "This is a chariot. You need not cower over it. This is a chase. I don't have to be polite."

And with that, he tugged the reins to the side, driving the spiked wheels of the chariot into the cliffside. Rock and rubble crashed down onto the asphalt, scattering all across Saber's path.

"This is what you get when you try to pursue Iskander!" he cried out over the crash of earth to earth. As they banked a turn, he looked to the wreckage for any sight of the Servant, and then there she was emerging from the dust and debris. Saber wove between fallen rocks and tumbling boulders, vaulting over an overturned tree. She hardly seemed perturbed bursting through the difficult terrain and back onto the road with a trail of dirt behind her.

"My my," Iskander said behind him. "You really are the King of Knights, aren't you?" He drew his sword. "How little did I know you were a beautiful flower of the battlefield!"

Perhaps he had underestimated her, now and when she still ruled so long ago. He wondered why she had ever bothered to hide her true nature.

These were very different times, he supposed, and then conjured a surge of electric energy from the Gordius Wheel into the asphalt, shattering it from its foundation. Shiny black rock kicked up into the air towards Saber, who had been gaining on them. One of her arms extended backward, a tower of wind concealing Excalibur as the air seemed to carry her through over the road, weaving and turning at all the right moments.

"Do not underestimate me!" she cried, the motorcycle peeling onto one wheel as she accelerated.

Something had angered her. Something had to have happened.

Rider looked back again, and she was gone.

Then he blinked, and the bike was suddenly ramping off a nearby exit. It soared through the air, Saber preparing to bring down Excalibur as heavily as her motorcycle fell. She cried out into the night and swung down, and Rider brought up his blade in time to block the devastating blow. With his giant frame, he shoved Saber and the entire bike off him before she could strike true.

The chariot skidded to a halt, and Saber reversed the bike in a wide berth away from Iskander and Waiver, still brandishing the sword as if she had not had a chance to swing it yet.

She was strong.

The air stood still in a short silence. Stars danced overhead.

"Where is she?!" Saber cried, her voice echoing into the night. Waiver looked up at Rider with a look as confused as he, but then the boy's eyes moved to where Iskander still held tight to his own blade.

"We're not going to attack from here, are we?" he said. "She's right there. Her Noble Phantasm will tear us to shreds."

"There's a delay in the attack while she is building it up; we can strike then," Iskander muttered lowly to Waiver, and then more loudly to Saber. "I am sure I don't know what you mean, but if it's a battle you're here for, it's a battle you will get, King of Knights!"

She looked so very angry as she dismounted the bike. Her contemporary dress, a black suit, faded away into the more traditional armor and garb of her original time.

And Excalibur began to glow.

A letter from me to you

Hello everyone. It's me, I'm not dead. But I am sorry. Six years ago I started this story and it flourished into one of my proudest works of literature, and I can say that because of all of you guys, who read it, who liked it, gave it kudos, and gave me feedback, whether that was praise or constructive. It was a landmark of my years of studying. Something I loved.

I started this story while I was in college, studying for a creative writing degree. Today, I have that degree, and a 9 to 5 job, and a novel in the works. But I don't think I could have gotten where I am today if it weren't for you. This medium of fiction writing allows for something that academic fiction or even typical fantasy/genre writing can allow. I don't have a particular word to describe it, perhaps comradery? Anyway, I started out writing this because I felt like there were no good Gilgamesh and Saber pieces, not enough good ones at least. And so I decided to make the kind of story I wanted to read. I wanted to create an entirely possible realistic bond between the two characters while staying true to the story.

I couldn't have begun to imagine how many like-minded fans I would gather because of it. I could never have imagined how popular it could have gotten.

Someone made their own playlist after my story! I got to know some awesome beta-readers through this. And some amazing readers!

And somewhere along the line, I let you all down. Life happened and I withdrew from the story to pursue other things. Some of them necessary for me to live the life I want, some not. Just because this is fanfiction doesn't make the readers behind it any less valid or needed or appreciated. It shouldn't make it that way at least.

And for that, I owe you all an apology. If I want to become an established author someday, I can't do this to my readers. I can't drop off the face of the earth again.

And for that, I'm sorry. I've apologized in the past, but after two years of silence, I feel I needed to say more than just that.

Will I be regularly updating?

Well, currently my country is on lockdown due to Covid-19, and while I am still considered an essential worker and maintain my day job, I do have a lot more free time on my hands than I originally did.

The answer is kind of? I plan on picking this story back up and continuing it and finishing it because that's what it deserves and it's what you deserve.

Will it be as frequently as I used to? Likely not. Like I said, I have a novel I want to put out in the world. I can't dedicate as much time to this as I would have liked. But I do miss this. I miss the feeling of pride I got creating this parallel world from one of my favorite works.

So, I'm back. Maybe not as regularly. But I'm back. I missed you guys. And I hope you're all staying safe under the circumstances.

If you're currently affected by the virus, I hope this brings a little light to your quarantine.

Thank you. Thank you for commenting so much. Thank you for reminding me of why I started this in the first place.

Thank you for reading.

Love, Rei