Chapter Text
“spiritron conversion activating. you have the quartz, fujimaru?” da vinci smiled, holding out her hand.
“sure do,” came the easy, laid-back reply, a shift of materials in hand.
caster gilgamesh stood with his arms crossed behind them both, gaze set on the bands of light upon the floor of the summoning room.
another day of summoning, another day of another servant. perhaps another copy of some other hero, perhaps someone new. he was merely attending to see how it worked, that was all. he would leave shortly after the summoning was done.
“get on with it, mongrel,” he muttered, and ritsuka beamed back at him. an annoying smile he had grown fond of.
“alright! here we go!”
fujimaru immediately clasped their hands together in prayer, bowing their head and shutting their eyes. a way they wished for luck to bless them. he rose a brow at it, before his gaze drifted back to pay attention to the summoning.
caster watched as the orbs of light swirled together, before a brilliant shine of rainbow and gold flared out. his eyes widened.
he glanced at the master, and nudged them. they opened their eyes immediately, and then they went wide seeing the light. it converged at the circle’s center before giving a bright flash, da vinci, caster gilgamesh, and fujimaru covering their faces.
a twirl of a scythe, a black cow’s skull adorning its foremost blade, with the end of the handle fastened with a dog’s skull.
“servant… hmm. this time, lancer.”
a deep, quiet voice spoke, near-silent and yet firm.
caster stared. long, shimmering blonde hair, intense crimson eyes, a figure that held both grace and power. one that eerily looked like his own. he got an answer to that question quickly.
“true name… gilgamesh, i suppose.”
there was no way.
“i am he who is the beginning of all ends. contractor, what do you…? ”
the lancer looked around him at the room, before that brilliant gaze settled on the king of uruk. he stared back with wide eyes, suddenly feeling very small beneath that intensity.
“my... younger…”
“fujimaru!” da vinci exclaimed, “congratulations! we’ve successfully summoned a five star servant…”
her voice faded as she stared at the lancer holding the scythe, slowly realizing and looking over at caster.
“h-hello,” fujimaru said softly, walking up to the lancer and taking his hand, smiling. “i am the master of chaldea, and--”
“i know who you are,” the lancer replied quietly, interrupting with very little regard for how cold his tone was. “i have known... i was to be summoned here eventually. clairvoyance is a dangerous thing,” he continued on, narrow gaze still set on caster.
he finally decided to speak.
“you- you are me,” caster said, willing his voice not to shake. “another gilgamesh.”
a nod. fujimaru looked between the both of them, while da vinci held her dress silently.
“master-!”
the door slammed open. golden armor, red eyes, slicked back blonde hair, too. caster whirled back, his own golden robes flitting upwards, to see his archer self staring forward along with his child self, leaning by the doorway.
“...” fujimaru gave a weak smile.
“...” stare.
lancer coughed, looking to the side. “my, my, contractor… it seems you’ve already summoned quite a few of me.”
“master, what is the meaning of this? why is there another one of me-” archer’s voice rose in volume, fury already settling on his expression. “and do you mean to tell me this one has class advantage over me? i-”
kogil interrupted.
“calm down, i’m sure he’s pretty confused t-” another cut-off yell-
“be si-!”
“both of you!” caster raised his voice, crossing his arms. “quiet down! ...ritsuka, your orders?”
a soft sigh. they ran their hand through those black locks, rubbing the back of their neck.
“...archer, kogil, please leave.”
archer shot a glare at the new lancer version of himself before leaving with a stomp, the room shaking a little from the vibration. kogil sighed and apologized softly before trailing after him.
well, this new lancer most definitely could not avoid a confrontation by that tyrant he once was.
da vinci chuckled. “i’ll tell romani we’ve summoned someone new,” she said with a smile. “do you want me to tell anyone else?”
“no,” the other replied. “thank you, da vinci-chan.”
“of course~” and with a smile and a wink at the lancer, she left the summoning room.
ritsuka stared up at the lancer, giving a slow sigh. “...tell me about yourself.”
he chuckled.
“on the spot i see…? mm. eligible for grand, and enuma elish nullification,” he replied. “is that good... enough for now?”
his master’s eyes widened. his own did, too. the lancer’s smile was calm, brilliant, blinding, gentle.
i, a candidate for grand. he, too...
“o-oh, i… meant more about you know… your history. n-not your traits,” master said softly, cheeks dusted as the lancer leaned down a bit to look at them better.
“well, you already... know of my tyrant and wise king selves,” he tilted his head. “what else… do you wish to know…?”
“about your scythe, why you’re wearing black… what gilgamesh you are?” they shuffled nervously on their feet, and caster’s gaze was eerily drawn to the lancer. a strange aura. no power emitted from it, not a single drop of strength. honestly, it was pathetic. in fact, had he not been his caster self, he doubted he would’ve sensed it at all. an aura with no power, yet he felt a strange sense for sure, that it was merely hidden… this one was five star, so…?
“i am but a humble judge,” lancer replied. “a man who guides the souls of the fallen, a courthouse for those that walk the underworld of lady ereshkigal. nothing more.”
“i-i- see… wait, but you’re gilgamesh! i thought that you-”
“fell into death’s embrace, after working a living body deep to the bone,” and caster immediately winced a bit, coughing and looking back. lancer’s gaze flickered to him, and he felt chills from it. “that would be correct.”
“then how do you have a servant self… of you after you have di-”
“the gods chose me,” he replied simply, once more. “so i ascended past them. that is all.”
ascended past them?
caster felt a chill run down his spine. he had… no memories, of that which after he had died, and yet there he was, standing right in front of him...
ritsuka stared in silent awe at the black-robed lancer, silent for a moment as they took him in, before suddenly they remembered to speak, and they nodded with a soft noise.
“w-well, thank you for telling me.”
“of course. you are... the contract under which i now serve. i will assist however i can.”
“i expected you to be… a little ruder,” master admitted quietly. caster coughed again at that statement, and lancer’s gaze met his own again before he looked away.
“ah, well. it is... a judge’s duty. to act as such without bias nor discrimination. although…”
the summoning room got very cold, and caster shivered a bit. lancer’s gaze bored into both of them, calculating and silent.
“i will say... that i have no reason to trust you, either.”
it was dead silent for a few moments, before lancer chuckled, and the room warmed again.
“forgive me, contractor. was i a bit scary there? i am… to be staying here, yes?”
ritsuka forced out a nervous laugh, and he would have winced from it had he not been so controlled in his emotions.
“o-oh, right! of course! um... i have to ask romani to set up a room for you… you won’t have a roommate because you’re the newest servant… umm… caster?”
and now he got roped into this mess.
“...yes, master?”
“could you show your, um… lancer self, around chaldea?”
the lancer was smiling softly, raising a brow.
“...of course.”
“th- thank you! i’m going to go catch up with da-vinci, and have romani and the staff see if there’s a room for you, um… what do you want me to call you?”
“nightfallen one,” the lancer replied. “you may call me the nightfallen one, contractor.”
“okay, nightfallen gil!” lancer’s smile eased up a bit more at the nickname, “bye!” a quick head turn to him, “thank you, your majesty!” caster gave a nod as ritsuka dashed out the door, leaving the summoning room empty save for the two of them.
silence.
“...”
he felt powerless. despite that strange aura of the other’s that lacked any hostility or power whatsoever, he felt so powerless. lancer leaned on his scythe, tilting his head at him.
“...your hair is long,” caster commented idly, breaking the desperate silence. his voice seemed unnatural against it, somehow, like the other was commanding it in place. “you seem a bit taller, than me. i thought i had done my growing all the way back then.”
lancer walked a bit closer to him, hair swaying a bit in a strange breeze. hypnotizing. this other self of his was… the black robes adorning him, the open collar connected by a beaded golden chain… the golden belt around his waist, the long folds of fabric swayed as he walked forward, the aura growing more intense and filling up the room. shimmering, glass earrings, a mark of red make-up beneath each eye, a small smile. glimpses of wine-colored tattoos draping across pale, smooth, glistening skin from the gaps of the shining black robes. a bit more physically built than his archer self and his own figure, a mirror image of himself, yet eerily different. decorated with the aesthetics of the underworld of mesopotamia.
somehow, he is reminded of the likeness the pseudo-servants those two goddesses had become, and yet he shared the same hair color, the same eyes… movement, lithe and sleek like almost that of a cat’s, except more powerful. not quite a lion either. smooth, flowing movements, in reverent silence. how he wondered what that skin would...
he realized he was staring. cornered, he felt. the lancer simply smiled, not commenting on it.
“so my living self has… pointed out the obvious,” and a black-and-gold-gloved hand brushed the side of his hair. he recoiled immediately, shocked at the gesture, giving a breathy noise in surprise as the other’s eyes fell shut and he laughed softly.
“can i not brush my own hair…? my... i forgot how averse i was to affection. perhaps... i still am, but that is besides the point.”
he hissed at that, arm moving up to guard himself.
“you are me, after i have died.”
a gentle quirk of lips from the judge. the veil attached to his crown swayed and sparkled as he tilted his head.
“that would be correct...”
“is that all you are?”
a pause, before those crimson eyes of himself closed and the other huffed out a laugh.
“yes. that is... all i am. a humble judge.”
a beautiful judge, he found himself thinking, before he immediately shoved that thought out of his head. this was himself, and yet not. he knew of his own pride, his own arrogance all too well, and it still boiled up within him. narcissism, he believed it was called.
to find his own self beautiful. he could only barely say that about his tyrannical younger counterpart, but this one… this version of himself had him in awe.
“...i see,” he murmured back quietly. the lancer chuckled.
“well, i believe you... have a laboratory to show me around, yes?” caster noticed now his other self’s voice had lapses of pauses, before it flowed back in. a much gentler, much softer voice than his own. velvety, like the petals of the gardens he once walked among, rasping, like the tiny, unnoticeable juts and edges within a smooth surface of ice. it had not insulted anyone, at least not yet. humble, silent.
and yet that voice belonged to a lancer eligible for grand. he wondered what power this self wielded to be awarded such a title by the root.
“mm. follow. i will guide you through the hallways and rooms, to the command room, and the dining hall. after that, i will let master deal with you.”
another gentle noise of amusement.
“very well, wise one.”
he stiffened at the nickname. “...is that what you are going to call me?”
“i supposed… i would call you, ‘wise one,’ the other one ‘tyrant,’ and the little one, ‘child.’ you may address me however you wish.”
he raised a brow. he supposed this made things less confusing, but still, it was strange nonetheless.
“...you told the mongrel to call you ‘the nightfallen one,’” he mused back, taking a step out the door. the lancer fell in beside him, scythe vanishing in a brilliant spark of blue flame, briefly dazzling his gaze and dizzying him.
“...i-i, suppose that would mean i would call you ‘night,’ but if we are alone, perhaps addressing you as simply ‘lancer’... would that suffice?”
“mmhm. feel free… to call me ‘lancer,’ wise one.”
a childlike, yet distant tone, that seemed to have naivete. he questioned its innocence, before walking on down the stark-white hallways.
“...”
he only heard one pair of footsteps, and those were his own. he glanced down, and saw the other walking beside him.
“...i cannot hear your-”
“death is silent.”
he immediately stilled at that comment.
the other stroked his hair again and he willed himself not to recoil. a kind smile, that he assumed most definitely was some sort of facade, a mask to conceal some darkness this older version of him was hiding.
“i am of kur,” still speaking softly. “and i am... also you. you must calm yourself around me, wise one,” and he stared, head tilted ever so slightly up to take in the crimson eyes of his own self.
“if you react like this… to everything i say, i fear that we will not get anywhere in this tour,” the other whispered, tilting his head as a brow furrowed and another warm smile spread across the judge’s expression. he brought a hand to his mouth, giggling softly at his own joke. caster stared, searching that happy expression for anything to give him away.
he found nothing. he found himself so hard to read, and that was frustrating. archer, he could understand. but this?
“..."
death was silent, and yet it was the only thing gilgamesh could hear.
“...very well. let us continue, lancer.”
a noise of agreement.
some time passed as the caster guided the lancer around the halls of the great laboratory, the headquarters of the association tasked with protecting humanity. they made idle talk about and with the servants that passed them. a short man with blue hair and striped clothing. that other red-cloaked archer his younger self despised with a passion. a woman with a scaled scarf in a black uniform, and a man in a white one with a blue-lined hat. lancer seemed intrigued by all these… people, the caster supposed. innocent greetings and bows of his head to these other servants.
about an hour or so had passed already.
caster gilgamesh could almost be amused by how nice this other self of his seemed to be, save for those silent steps and that eerie, hidden darkness still within the other’s waters. then, the next words out of his other self’s mouth, along with the much brighter, amused tone, startled him.
“oh, lady ereshkigal!”
the goddess in question turned around, and her eyes widened in surprise seeing the lancer walking toward her.
“eh– eh– eh?! my judge!”
he smiled, steps growing a bit faster, and yet still caster heard nothing from them. he crossed his arms, following behind the other with a raised brow.
the lancer swept the goddess off her feet and spun her, giving a laugh, before setting her down. caster’s arms immediately dropped, shocked at the… affectionate gesture.
“my, my, how different you are from that grumpy one over there,” she commented, gently floating to the floor and turning to gaze at caster. “it’s been awhile, my judge of the underworld.”
he gave a huff.
“it is a pleasure to meet you once again as well, lady ereshkigal.” a bow of his head, closing his eyes.
“it seems master has summoned you here. i hope you enjoy your stay…”
caster watched eresh’s expression.
silently, she raised a brow in confusion, before her eyes went wide. no doubt noticing the strange, uncomfortable aura the other gave off. she glanced over at the caster.
do you sense it, too?
he merely gave a dip of his head in response.
“o-oh! you do not need to bow, gil-shi.” gil-shi? death gil? caster gave an uncharacteristic, un-kingly snort, which got him a glare from the goddess, and no reaction from the judge.
said judge raised his head.
the temperature got extremely cold, and caster gil stilled at the drop. eresh gestured very slightly with her knuckle, indicating it was the lancer, not her.
“lady ereshkigal,” he murmured. his voice was much deeper, a rolling force that felt like it could knock both of them to the floor if he spoke any louder, now, almost seeming to echo down the corridor they were in. it sent shivers up the caster’s spine, tingling up his skin. almost like cold droplets of water rolling down his back. he saw eresh stiffen up a bit, giving a weak smile as she looked up at the lancer.
“as i said, it is good... to see you again. i hope to serve you... well, whenever the contractor has me… fight alongside you.”
those crimson eyes were dull, empty, corpse-like, as though the color of the petals of that spider lily that damned grand candidate caster told him about.
“o-oh…” eresh sounded back softly, before she hurriedly tried to retain her stature. “o-of course! you, too, king gilgamesh! u-um…” she fiddled with her cape, nervously averting her gaze. the caster almost felt bad for her. “you seem a little… different than i remember… ah-”
he stroked her hair gently. life returned to his gaze, and those rubies shimmered.
dazzling, the caster found himself thinking. they were his own eyes, yet not. they seemed sharper, somehow, more ancient, otherworldly, though this was him after he had died...
“forgive me for... not being what you remember, then, queen of the underworld. my mistress.”
caster narrowed his eyes a bit, both at the directly respectful tone the other was speaking with, and the goddess’s comment. different. what was so different that eresh had to point it out? was the strange aura more than just a… strange aura? what could she sense that he could not?
immediately, she blushed at his gesture, and gave several quick nods of her head.
the judge’s heel turned swiftly to face the caster, and he almost startled at it.
“thank you for letting me speak with my equal,” he spoke out with a smile.
gilgamesh nodded solemnly, gaze flickering to the goddess’ once more as she drew a line over her neck with an expression dashed with amusement. equal… more strange wording.
“mm. let’s move alon–”
“ereshkigal! gilgamesh! ...o-other gilg- nightfallen one!”
master’s voice, and all three of them turned at once.
“u-um, doctor roman gave me some news regarding getting you a room, n… nightfallen,” ritsuka stopped with a slight skid to their step, holding their sleeve. “sorry, but you might have to share a room with two other people for a little, while we figure out um… where to put you.”
caster’s throat went dry.
“and since… the first servant you met was,” a gesture in his own direction, and his eyes were a wide stare as he quirked a slight, extremely forced smile. he heard eresh giggle at his expression.
“is it okay if he rooms with you for now, your majesty?” they shuffled on their feet, shyly feeling the gazes of the mesopotamian gods and demigod on them.
“...”
he was silent for a moment, before he heaved out a breath and forced himself to relax, rolling his shoulders.
“...fine by me.”
oh, god, that meant he had to introduce the other to mer--
“wonderful!” a quick clap of hands, bouncing black hair that shimmered red in the light.
he winced a little.
he couldn’t get out of this one no matter how he tried. oh, where was enkidu when you needed him…
their little meeting went separate ways, and he guided the lancer to his own quarters. thankfully, the staff of chaldea did what they could to accommodate a king of his status… although there were many other kings in this laboratory, drowned in snow.
as they walked, he still felt so unnerved. he seriously could not hear the other moving at all. not the sound of fabric sliding across the floor, not the sound of heels grazing across it. nothing. absolute, deadly silence.
the silence of death.
“are you always... this quiet?” he asked finally, too shaken by seeing what was practically the ghost of himself walking alongside him and making no sound. his hands felt sweaty.
“...yes. i am death, after all.”
“it is unnerving to know two entities that call themselves that,” he murmured, before lifting his head, realizing the other would have no idea. “the a--”
“grand assassin, hassan-i-sabbah,” the other replied dryly without a moment’s hesitation. “the angel of death, azrael... he who is... ever faithful, to the authority of which had... desecrated the... age... of... gods...”
the lancer’s voice slowed, and he stilled, that corpse-like gaze returning to his eyes. hollow, empty, all-consuming like those black holes he had learned of. the vast emptiness of everything, all contained within eyes that were darker, deeper than his.
he knew the aura, now.
primordial. brimming with controlled power, and yet that power was so carefully and meticulously contained, weaved like the threads of fabric he’d seen women within his kingdom bring forth. a direct contradiction. his other, future self, stood before him. he who had rejected the gods.
o humans, let us restrain the gods, he remembered.
that was what the mistress of the underworld had sensed. a primordial nothingness, all held cleanly, completely still, within his ascended self. there was no writhing. no lashing, no burst.
a deadly silence, demanded of his future-past self who held both a scythe and a lance in his hands.
a man who was more than a man.
“...lancer,” he called softly, almost afraid to break that silence again, and immediately the other’s head snapped up, startling the caster, and lancer let out a forced, light chuckle.
“oh! it seems that i… lapsed into unconsciousness, there,” he ran his fingers through his hair, tracing them among the black crown upon his head.
the life surged back into the other’s gaze like a tidal wave, and it was strong enough that the caster could see it clearly. a bright shimmer of red, a flash of gold. a brilliant shine, like the smoothest, cleanest jewel.
he was staring again.
“are you alright?” he found himself asking. how strange, to question it of his own…
“f-fine,” the other stuttered out, giving a slow breath. the judge pressed his hand to his forehead, and he watched as said hand creased the other’s skin, pinched the bridge of his nose. “ahh..."
a happy, false smile.
how strange, too, to see it so obviously on himself. was he that obvious as well?
“shall we continue to this room of yours, wise one?”
he gave a nod.
his room was a bit larger than others. as said, the staff tried to accommodate his preferences. it certainly was no royal bedchambers, let alone fit for a king, and yet it was his room.
...mostly.
he opened the door and stepped in, expecting his lancer self to follow as well.
flowers made of the arcane bloomed along the walls, vases holding precious, leathery buds that bloomed slowly. his room smelled of the earth, and yet sweet, too. sometimes all those colors clashed in his gaze, dizzying him and pointing out how much of an eyesore they could be to the ‘roommate’ he had been forced to share his quarters with.
he did not mind it as much as he complained about it, however.
the lancer seemed hesitant to step in. he sat down on the bed, crossing his legs, raising a brow at the other.
“why do you hesitate to enter? we are one and the same, are we not?”
there’s far too long a pause, that made gilgamesh uncomfortable as he watched his other self gaze around the room, those eyes of his drifting slowly about at all the flowers decorating the stark-white walls.
at the least, the bed sheets were a rich crimson, and the bed itself was one of the ones he pulled from his treasury. he’d not dare sleep among the stiff, scratchy white fabrics the chaldeans called beds. even if he slept so rarely, anyways.
“...the flowers are not made by natural means, yes?” his other self asked softly.
he questioned that… question.
“they are not. a result of the other one who dwells in this room’s magic.”
a sigh of relief, and lancer stepped in.
“i fear that nature both... recoils and dances at my touch,” he explained, which really just created more questions than answers. caster gave a huff, patting the space beside him. lancer sat down, and even still, not a single sound from him.
gods, that was creepy. truly like a spirit.
“...what do you mean by that?” he asked curiously. it almost felt awkward, to talk to himself, but not himself, like this.
lancer gave a soft noise of nothingness, a mutter of something the caster didn’t understand, before he just reclined against the bed fairly unceremoniously, crumpling the sheets. his knees bent, feet remaining on the floor.
“...i am death, and i am life,” he shrugged, curling up a little. caster turned his body a little, shifting his weight onto one arm.
“that answers nothing,” he mused back, gaze twinkling with inquisitiveness--
“i know.”
and he was forced into silence again.
“...i am someone who reigns over the dead. the nightfallen one... who watches over the dust and ashes of an unacknowledged world. spending an eternity… only waiting for the end of times, alone and unneeded, and yet i know that i will be there far beyond that end...” the other’s voice etched deep and to the bone, carving him open relentlessly and without acknowledgment. he can do nothing but listen to himself speak. the situation the other had almost reminded him of the other caster dwelling here.
“he who judges the dead, guides the lost… and… not much else, honestly,” and there’s a sound of amusement that follows that darkness in his tone, brightening him again.
he was not going to get used to those shifts in tone the other had.
“...i see,” he murmured back simply.
his gaze fell silently on the long golden locks the other had, much longer than his own. also shimmering like sea-silk, splashed against the deep red of the sheets they were on.
“...mm,” the other sounded softly again, rubbing his cheek on the fabric beneath. “it has been ages since i have felt the softness of a bed…”
he was afraid to ask what ‘ages’ meant.
before he can, the door swung open with a bang, startling him.
“your majesty! i’m hom--” a voice rang out, before immediately dying in its throat with a fizzle. a brilliant blaze reduced to smoldering ash.
merlin dropped his staff to the floor, and caster flinched at the sound. lancer groaned softly, nuzzling the bedsheets before also sitting up--
“...”
caster looked between his lancer self and the magus, who were both staring at each other with very intense gazes. his gaze flicked back to merlin, who was trembling now, hand squeezing his own white robes a bit too tightly, knuckles white for the half-incubus.
merlin was silent, simply staring, silently, at the black-robed lancer sitting on the bed, who was staring back at him.
the king of uruk, again, felt awkward in this situation, sitting between the both of them.
“well, are either of you going to spea-”
merlin dropped to his knees, and the king dove for him immediately. senseless mutterings, empty nothings fell out of his mouth as he clung to himself, clung to the caster desperately, shaking like a wilting leaf in autumn. he had never seen the other behave like this.
the magus rises, still trembling, and the king has never had to support the other like this, either.
“my- n-no-” the magus spoke, voice sharp and biting and oh, so much more human, so unlike him to speak so tenderly.
the lancer was up and off the bed immediately, and merlin grabbed for the waving, wisping furs- were they fur-? of his cape.
“bastard,” that’s a new word leaving the magus’ tongue, but there was no bite to it. it was almost broken on a sob. “you-”
the lancer’s eyes had regressed back to the mostly black-reds of that corpse-like state. slowly, they turned around the room before landing on the caster, and suddenly he felt extremely out of place here, in his own room. he felt his legs shake a little under that hollow, agonizingly intense gaze, cursing silently at his own discomposure.
he heard a voice speak in his head, and it wasn’t the magus.
a few minutes, and it was his own voice. give this a few minutes. i am sorry to ask this of you in your own room, wise one. you may act out against me accordingly, afterwards.
not bothering to question, he dipped his head and took a step outside the room, and shut the door with a click behind him.