So, this story is going to be the first chapters of several fanfic ideas. If you'd like to see them continued, feel free to review. I'll continue which stories get the most interest.
The Golden Way
Harry Potter/Fate/Stay Night
Pairing: Harry Potter/Sakura Matou
Having grown bored of Fyuuki following the Fourth Grail War, Gilgamesh returns to his throne in Babylon, only to discover that his line continues. So he decides to alleviate his boredom with his descendant, Harry Potter.
Fyuuki had become a truly boring place, Gilgamesh decided as he walked down the all too familiar streets of the Japanese city. The countless restaurants had no food fit for one of his stature, the air was foul, the shops bland, and even the whores were unworthy of his attention.
It had been almost three months to the day since the was given a physical form by the holy grail. During that time, he'd familiarized himself with the worthless town inhabited by lowly mongrels and found nothing to warrant keeping it around. Were he still the king, he'd have ordered the army to crush them like bugs, rip their buildings apart for parts, and enslave anyone who survives so that they might finally be useful.
"But such is life." He said aloud, opening the doors to the Fyuuki Church and striding to the back.
"Ah, Gilgamesh." Kirei smiled, putting one of the crying children whom he was comforting down on the floor, "I will be right back, little one." He promised before walking out of the room, "Is all well?"
"You have the nerve to ask me?" Gilgamesh scoffed, "Yes, all is well. Or as well as it can be in this boring town."
"Fyuuki is not to your liking then?" Kirei asked, not seeming particularly surprised.
"It is well enough for mongrels, I suppose." He admitted, "A rather grander place then I had ordered built for the dogs, but times have changed. Nevertheless, this place is not suited for a king."
"I would imagine not." Kirei nodded, "Then what will you do?"
"I believe I will travel." He shrugged, pulling one of Kirei's wines from the shelf, "This is my world, after all. Why should I not know all there is to know about it?"
"I believe you are right." Kirei smiled, sitting across from him, "So is this a farewell drink?"
"Never." Gilgamesh replied with a laugh, "Kirei, do not forget our agreement. When the next war comes about, I shall leave the summoning of Saber to you. After that, I shall simply give you the grail. That is our pact, is it not?"
"Indeed it is, King of Heroes." Kirei chuckled, raising his glass for a toast, "To mutual gain."
"Indeed." Gilgamesh said, toasting to it.
"When will you leave?" Kirei asked after taking a sip of wine.
"Tomorrow morning, I think." He answered, "I shall thoroughly enjoy this last drink, Kirei."
"And I as well." Kirei nodded, "Where will you go first? France? Spain? Italy?"
"I go to Babylon." He replied, "After all, I must see what kind of damage those mongrels did to my vault."
The next morning, Gilgamesh raises as soon as the sun shines, and pulls from the Gates his Vimana. Turning as he heard the door to the church open, he's unsurprised to see Kirei striding towards him.
"I felt it best to see you off, at least." Kirei said simply, standing by the side, "May the lord watch over you, King of Heroes."
"I have no use for gods." Gilgamesh replied with a slight smile, "And I will acknowledge no lord above me. Nevertheless, I thank you, Kirei. I shall return for the grail war. After all, I must be here to welcome my bride."
"Indeed." Kirei chuckled, 'Though it might help to find something of hers. Otherwise, I can't guarantee a summon."
"That's fine." he shrugged, boarding his craft, "I have her sword, after all." He grinned, extracting Caliburn from the Gate, "The sword she drew from the stone, proof of her kingship. My most glorious King of Knights."
"Wonderful." Kirei says, "Enjoy your world, Noble King of Heroes."
"I shall." Gilgamesh smiled before maxing the speed of his Vimana and vanishing from the island of Japan.
The trip was short. Within moments of disappearing from Fyuuki Church, he was directly above what was once his city. The high stone walls had been torn down by the desert winds, the houses longs since abandoned and faded into the pages of history. Still, he landed his craft and willed it back into the Gates before standing before what had once been the Gate to the city.
Drawing the Key of the King's Law: Bab-ilu, he raises his hand and proclaimed, "The king returns! Reveal yourself at my command!"
The walls turn solid gold, and the space between them shimmers as the Path of Babylon forms itself once more. Stepping through, he vanishes from the world of mortals.
The other side of the gate was a paradise. A world untouched by the filthy mongrels who'd so ruthlessly destroyed his world. The solid gold bricks he walked upon let out a familiar tone as he walked across them. On either side was a beautiful garden filled with every kind of plant imaginable. From long lost flowers who first gave the world light, to herbs that bestow immortality to those who consume it. The air was clean and pure, and it renewed his strength.
At the end of the path was his palace. The gate was platinum with a gold trim. There were all manner of jewels embedded in the precious metal, each enchanted by the gods themselves with a different purpose. Some of protection, other of attack, and others still of eternal power and fame. Lightly touching the sapphire before him, the gate opened silently., allowing him into his home.
Stepping through the gate, he saw once more his palace, his true domain with none save Enkidu have ever seen. Golden towers stretch into the sky, seemingly piercing the heavens themselves as they framed the sun, basking the entire palace in its rays for all time. The main door was solid mahogany, but like always it opened without him having to touch it.
Ignoring the many fine objects that resided within, Gilgamesh walked to the very back of the castle. In the center of the back wall was a circular door that was in fact a single giant emerald. It was found by a simple farmer roughly a year after his reign began, though he was naturally persuaded to give it to the king. He was well rewarded for his gift, of course, and he never again paid his taxes. Let it not be said that the King of Heroes is not just. The only flaw on the otherwise perfect gem was a small indentation in the front face of the treasure. Inserting Bab-ilu to the indentation, it fit perfectly and the jewel swung open. With a smile, he entered into his vault.
Passing the rows of finely crafted weapons, fine wines, divine and demonic beasts, ancient vehicles, and riches of all kinds, Giglamesh's eyes were trained only on the items in the very back. Standing upright on a diamond pedestal was his prized sword, Ea. The diamond had a few dried drops of Rider's blood that had dripped form the tip of the sword after Gilgamesh had put it back, but he had no reason to clean it. The blood of a worthy adversary is no taint to a weapon.
Directly next to the sword was the king's throne. A massive piece of platinum, plated in solid gold and studded with jewels. An object so powerful, it is a noble phantasm in it's own right. Beside it was the smaller silver throne meant for his queen, and though he'd had many offers, from the beautiful nobles, to the stunning peasants, and even goddesses, none had ever occupied that throne. Now, he'd found his queen. It was simply a matter of time. With a thought, he called a second crystal pedestal and placed it beside Arthuria's throne.
"She will be a true queen." He smiled, "And so like the king, her weapon shall be beside her as absolute proof of her glory."
Draped around the thrones, and extending throughout the vault were the chains of Enkidu. Next to Ea, it was his most trusted noble phantasm, and was always ready to answer his call.
Deciding to get down to business, he lowered himself into his throne. The jewels all lit at once as power of the noble phantasms flooded into his body. The power of creation itself was at his fingertips from atop that throne. This was the original Throne of Heroes, the throne of the Gods from which they judged humanity in the days of it's infancy. The fools who created the grail wars thought that the throne was a part of Akasha, something that could never exist in the world of humans. This throne was the source of all Heroic Spirits powers, the culmination of every weapon and object in his treasury; Every noble phantasm of every hero can be found within this vault, and so does their power. So long as this place remains, nothing can stand against him, for he controls all things.
Yet there was something wrong. He felt the powers of the heroic spirits, the energy of their noble phantasms coursing through his body and providing him with enough energy to last for all time in this world, but it wasn't enough.
The energy of his kingdom was gone.
In days of old, from atop this throne, the gods drew on the power of the earth. When it entered his treasury, he too could control the earth itself. That was what it meant to be the king of Heroes.
Now, however, that power was missing.
"This cannot be!" He roared in outrage as he stands up, stemming the flow of energy, "This is my world! None may possess what is mine!"
Taking a moment to clam himself, he looked at the matter objectively.
"This is the throne of the king." He said calmly, "The king my command all from this throne. Yet it refuses me..."
No matter how he looked at it, there could be only one reason.
"I'm not the king." He grinned, "Because my heir lives on."
His Vimana gracefully stops on the steps of a large marble building. The sign said clearly, "Gringotts."
"Gringotts." He chuckled as he replaced his transport in the vault, "That's a name I haven't heard in quite a long time."
With the grace of a king, he strides up the steps and through the doors. The guards on either side are quick to stand up straight at the sight of his golden armor, though it appeared to be more of a reflex than anything. Ignoring the guards demands that he stop, Gilgamesh skips everyone in line and stands before the teller, "Take me to Gringott." He said firmly.
"You must wait your turn like everyone else." The teller, a goblin in a blue suit growled at him as the guards grab his arms.
Turning on them with all the fury he had in life, and conjuring a dozen spears aimed at the three who'd wronged him, he repeated his demand, "Gringott. Now. Or you all die."
"You will not get away with this!" The teller sneered, backing away from him, though the weapons track his every move.
"I am the King of Heroes!" He shouted in response, "I do as I wish."
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?" A voice boomed from the back, and the goblins all struggled to kneel quick enough. Many of the wizards who had been watching Gilgamesh's fight with the goblins either turned to see the newcomer or kept their eyes on him.
In the back of the bank was a goblin, a good two feet taller than the other goblins. He wore fine silver armor that to Gilgamesh's refined eye could have even been a noble Phantasm. His hair was likewise streaked with silver, though it remained mostly black. His beard was short, and his eyes gold, leaving no doubt in Gilgamesh's mind as to who this goblin was.
"It has been quite a while, Gringott." He said with a chuckle as he allows his weapons to recede into the Vault.
The Goblin's eyes narrow as he approaches, but at the sight of his golden armor, and the weapons disappearing into nothingness, he grew visibly pale, "It has indeed, Lord Gilgamesh." The goblin bowed, "I cannot fathom how you could have come back! Why, the last time I saw you with nearly five thousand years ago!"
"Sounds about right." Gilgamesh replied, ignoring the stunned outburst from the people around them, "Shall we discuss business in the back then?"
"Of course." The goblin king bowed again, motioning for the guards to stand down before leaving with the heroic spirit.
The halls of Gringotts were made of marble, and throughout the stone were traces of a metal that seemed to absorb the very magic of the air.
"You've done well for yourself, Gringott." He smiled as he followed the leader of the goblins, "I trust you have enjoyed my gift?"
"indeed, sire." The goblin king replied, "Because of your generosity, I have reigned supreme for nearly five millennia."
"You are a good servant." The golden king said calmly, "It is my duty as a king to reward your efforts."
"You are too kind." Gringott said honestly as he opens the doors to his personal office, "Now, how may I serve you again, my king?"
"It has come to my attention that my heir survives." Gilgamesh answers, "With that in mind, I thought I should meet them, no?"
"I'm surprised." Gringott said as he writes a memo which vanishes into a puff of smoke, "despite my best efforts, I could find no survivors following the fall of Uruk."
"Well, I have it on good authority that they exist." He replied, "Thus, I am here."
"I understand. There are methods to determine who it is." The goblin said as a second goblin hurries in with a few implements, "These methods, however, are not perfect. As large as Gringotts has become over the many years, we do not yet cover the globe. Our records span the entire Eurasian continent, and the islands surrounding it, but beyond that, I am afraid I can help you very little."
"It's fine." Gilgamesh waved him off, "I have spent the last five years walking the lands called the Americas, and Africa as well. I'm reasonably sure that they were not there."
"I see." Gringotts nodded, handing him a blood quill and a black stone, "Forgive me, My lord, but this method is the only one which will fulfill your needs. You must write your name upon the stone using this quill. In doing so, it will take your blood, and find any person who is your descendent."
"Very well." Gilgamesh said calmly, "a measly scratch is no cause for concern."
On the black stone, he wrote his full name.
Gilgamesh, High King of Babylon
He could hardly even feel the words etching themselves into his hand, and within a moment, it had healed.
"Now then…" Gringott muttered, tapping the stone. The bloody letters began to swirl as they wrote out over a dozen names, all of which were a shade lighter than it should have been. "Very strange…" Gringott frowned, "Every person listed on here has been deceased for over ten years."
"who was the most recently deceased?" Gilgamesh asked lazily, removing a cup of wine from his vault.
"A Ms. Lily Evans." Gringott reads, before gasping, "That's it. Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter?" The king of heroes asked pleasantly, "Who is that?"
"Your heir." The goblin king replied, "Lily Evans was his mother. She was murdered when he was one, along with her husband, James Potter."
"And the boy?"
"If I recall correctly, he was sent to stay with his Muggle aunt and uncle." The king answered before continuing to elaborate, "A muggle is the term this era uses to describe those without magic."
"And judging from the tone, he is not a muggle?"
"No. The potters are a long line of purebloods, dating back to the Knights of the Round Table."
"Really…" Gilgamesh smiled, "Well that is interesting. Tell me where I can find this boy. It's time I had a talk with him."
"BOY!" Uncle Vernon shouts, jarring Harry Potter from his sleep, "Get down here!"
"Yes Uncle Vernon." He responds robotically, climbing out of bed and getting dressed before going down to meet his clearly angry uncle.
"What is the meaning of this!?" Vernon shouts when he's within range and thrusting something into his hand.
It was a letter from Mrs. Weasley offering to take Harry to the Quidditch world cup. The P.S. was a bit strange though.
"The post man seemed to think it was peculiar." Vernon growls, handing him a letter covered in stamps, "I had to tell him that you've taken up stamp collecting. Now, answer me boy!"
"I don't know." Harry said honestly, worried about the vein throbbing in his uncle's forehead. Normally, his uncle wouldn't dare hit him. Sirius would kill him if he did, but that vein meant he wasn't thinking clearly, and it was best to be far away.
His worst fears were realized as Vernon slugs him hard in the face. Instantly, his nose shattered and blood poured down his face. The moment he hit the ground, Vernon was on him, kicking at his side and stomping on the back of his head with abandon.
"I… WILL…NOT…HAVE…YOU…DRAGGING…DOWN…OUR…FAMILY'S…NAME!" He growls, marking each word with a savage kick. Just as Harry was about to black out, he heard a loud screeching, followed by a yelp of pain and his uncles frustrated grunts as he swung randomly at something Harry could not see. Within a moment, he gave a cry of satisfaction as something thudded to the floor, and he gave a few hard stomps before turning his attention back to Harry. With his fist raised again, Harry closed his eyes and braced himself for the inevitable. Suddenly, he heard the window shatter, and a screech of pain that wasn't his own. The door to the house opened, and someone walked into the room. Harry tried to look up, but all he saw was the glare of the sun.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?" A new voice asked as Harry's consciousness faded.
When Harry awoke, it was dark. He was in his bed room, "So it was just a dream." He decided, laying back down to get some more rest.
"What was a dream?" A voice asked from the dark corner of his room, and he jolted up. There was a man with short golden hair that reminded him of Draco, but with eyes as blood red as Tom Riddle's. He looked to be only a few years older than Harry, maybe nineteen or twenty, but something about him was a force to be fear and respected, "Tell me about this dream of yours." He said as he walks towards Harry.
"Nothing really." Harry mumbled, nervous of the mystery man who was in his room in the middle of the night. Ever so slightly, he inched his way towards his school trunk and his wand.
"You don't say…" The man nodded, eyes watching Harry like a hawk, but seemingly unconcerned with his actions, "Regardless, how are your injuries?"
"Injuries?" Harry asked, and the dream came flooding back to him, "That wasn't a dream?"
"Why would it be?" The man replied, "I'll ask again. How are your injuries?"
"Fine." Harry answered quickly, "I didn't even notice I'd been injured…"
"Well, I thought that might be the case." He smirked, "Ambrosia has been known to cause some pretty bad side effects on mortals, but I suppose my blood runs stronger in you than I first thought, Harry Potter."
"How do you know my name?" Harry asked, "And who are you? What do you mean my blood?"
"So many questions!" The man chuckles, sitting at Harry's desk chair, "I shall answer one."
"Who are you?" Harry repeated, deeming it the most important question, and the man nodded approvingly, "Very well. I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes."
"Gilgamesh?" Harry asked, and the name seemed familiar from somewhere.
"Correct." He sighed, "Now, why exactly was the fat man attacking you?"
"Something about me drawing attention to his family?" Harry mumbled, "Not entirely sure. My memories a bit foggy."
"I see." Gilgamesh smirked, "I didn't think that mongrel was capable of telling the truth. He claimed that you attempted to kill his family."
"yeah, that was a lie." Harry replied angrily.
"I thought as much." Gilgamesh said easily, "Come. Let's g talk with them, shall we?"
Harry followed the mysterious Gilgamesh down the stairs of Number Four, Privet Drive, but not before grabbing his wand from his trunk. Gilgamesh naturally saw this, but made no attempts to stop him. At the bottom of the stairs, Harry could hear Dudley whimpering, Petunia crying, and Vernon grunting in pain, but couldn't discern where they were coming from.
Gilgamesh strode into the dursley's living room, and sat himself down upon Uncle Vernon's chair. Harry nervously sat on the couch nearby. His eyes were drawn to a large spot of blood on the rug, and right next to it was a blood soaked feather.
Gilgamesh followed his gaze and sighed, seeming almost human for a moment, "I assume that owl was yours?"
"What happened to her?" He asked, afraid of the answer.
"She died." He replied, "That mongrel smashed her to death. If its any consolation, it was quick. She likely didn't feel anything."
"Why would he…" Harry chokes out, trying not to cry.
"She was trying to protect you." The man in old said calmly, "I saw it. She flew down the stairs and started pecking at him. Got him once in the eye too. Unfortunately, that was when he got her. One hit knocked her to the ground, and one stomp finished the job. I must say that I'm surprised. I've never known an owl so loyal. But then I've only ever had lions, so…"
Harry tried to listen, but it was all so hard to take in. It couldn't be real. Hedwig, brave and true Hedwig couldn't be dead. "Where?" He mumbles, interrupting the speech.
"I moved her to the back room." Gilgamesh answers, pointing towards the kitchen, "She deserves a dignified burial at the least."
Almost without even realizing it, Harry stood up and walked to the kitchen. Gilgamesh stood and followed without a word. The kitchen seemed completely normal except for a small golden box on the table. Hands shaking, he opens the lid just enough to peer inside. His heart fell as he looked upon the mangled form of his one true friend at Privet Drive.
Putting the lid back on, he picks up the box and kicks the back door open. Again, the golden king follows silently behind him. As Harry moves towards the shed to retrieve a shovel, Gilgamesh hands him one. For almost an hour, he stood in silence as Harry dug out a small grave for his friend, and he surprised even himself by not objecting to forfeiting one of his treasures for the coffin. Perhaps it was because the owls noble sacrifice brought back memories of his own days with enkidu, or perhaps it was because as his heir, the boy had every right to them.
With Hedwig buried, Harry silently said a prayer before turning back to the mystery man, "Thank you." He said honestly.
"Think nothing of it." Gilgamesh answered, "If nothing else, I know to honor the dead."
Deep in Harry's heart, a voice was screaming for vengeance. His scar was burning, but he paid it no mind. Glaring at Gilgamesh, he asked the question.
"Where are they?"
"They're close by." Gilgamesh said, walking back into the house with Harry just behind him. They passed through the kitchen, and stopped in the hall. He smirks before opening the door to the cupboard under the stairs. Immediately all three members of the Dursley family fell out. Vernon was covered in blood, an eye squeezed shut and covered in blood and his arm was looking rather green. Petunia had traces of blood on her as well, and looked absolutely terrified while Dudley's eyes were squeezed as tight as they could, and he was mumbling about it all being a dream. "Well, scum, I heard a very different story from Harry."
"he's lying!" Vernon muttered, clutching his wounded arm, "I swear he's lying!"
"I don't care." Gilgamesh said coldly, making Vernon wince, "It's true he may be lying, however the king has rendered his judgment."
"What bloody king?" Vernon growled, glaring at Harry with unbridled hatred.
"Him." Gilgamesh answered, patting Harry's shoulder, "He is my heir, and thus the only person worthy of succeeding my throne. For your slight against him, may your deaths be painful, and for your actions against his owl, I assure you it will be."
From nowhere, more than a dozen weapons of all kinds appear in the air, each pointed at the trio of Dursleys. Dudley's whining turned to all out bawling. Petunia, to her credit, showed courage that Harry didn't believe possible as she begged Gilgamesh on her hands and knees to at least spare Dudley. Uncle Vernon just started shouting about how he would never get away with Murder, and if he knew what was good for him, he'd turn himself in now so he might be spared the death penalty.
"Well, Harry Potter?" Gilgamesh asks as the blades stop moving less than a foot from the panicked family., "What shall I do? Their actions were taken against you, thus you alone have the right to decide their fate."
Harry glances down at the only family he had left. At his uncle glaring at him as if daring him to do it, this cousin who was crying like a baby, and at his aunt who'd lost her voice from begging, and now looked up at him silently asking for his mercy.
'They shouldn't die.' He thinks immediately, but somewhere at the back of his mind, he questioned himself.
'Why should I show mercy?" He asked, 'After all the times I begged for them to stop, after all the tormenting they've put me through because I could use magic and they couldn't. All the times Dudley beat and abused me while his parents praised him. All the chores he did and at the same time getting a fraction of the food Dudley got. Being starved just so that he wouldn't take up as much space and they could keep him in the cupboard like some dirty secret they'd rather forget. After Hedwig..!'
Without even thinking, he spoke, 'Let them suffer."
His aunt let out a shrill scream as she was pierced with dozens of weapons. Dudley died next, curling up into a ball like a hedgehog before being turned into a human pin cushion. Vernon was the last, and definitely the worst. Gilgamesh seemed to have a cruel sense of humor, as each weapon hit a joint, causing him excruciating pain, but at the same time, he just wouldn't die until a spear finally fell into his heart.
The blood of his family flooded the hall, and soaked into the carpet. Part of him was relieved that his torment at their hands was over, but the larger part felt awful. They might have been terrible, but they were his family. How could he feel happy about this?
Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach, and without warning, he threw up all over the floor.
"You did well." Gilgamesh replied without even acknowledging the puking at first, "As I thought, you have the will of the king. Though perhaps not the stomach… Not yet at least."
"Not yet?" Harry asked weakly, leaning up against the wall.
"You'll learn." Gilgamesh smiled as he extends a hand to the boy, who took it gratefully, "Now, it's time you learned what it means to be a king."