Babylon

For King Gilgamesh's eyes only, the scroll read, a hefty letter sent in by Haddad's falcon. It was sealed with the Pendragon crest, the blue wax crumbling easily in Gilgamesh's fingers. He lounged in his large bed, adorned with colorful pillows, but few blankets to speak of. The wide, arched windows blew in a crisp morning air, fluttering the light red curtains that decorated the exterior of this room. With haste, he propped up a pillow behind him to read the letter.

Gilgamesh,

I write this to you to report the progress in our quest for the Holy Grail. We've reached out to all of our sources in hopes of finding clues of its whereabouts. As divine Providence would have it, we've found solace in the monasteries that adorn England's towns and countrysides. Each monastery has their own take on how a relic such as the Grail, which originated in Jerusalem, could have made it's way to our shores.

As of right now, I have not ordered a quest just yet. I do not wish to send my knights on a wild ghost chase. I hope you understand, but we are making progress.

There were some lines that had been smudged beyond legibility, but it continued.

Your absence in Camelot is [smudge] apparent. The world seems just a little less colorful without the spirit of Babylon. I feel as if the people could not appreciate your passion without first experiencing the weeks that followed your departure. Perhaps during the solstice, or another holiday, we can arrange a gathering to celebrate our alliance, give the people something to appreciate. I'm sure [smudge] they would welcome the liveliness from the east with open arms.

I will continue my reports as requested and look forward to seeing Haddad's falcon in return.

King Arthur Pendragon

Gilgamesh couldn't help but smirk at the false name. He read the letter over again, trying to decipher any longing within its words, any indication that she, not Aruthur, missed him.

Arturia,

There's no need for formalities. My eyes are the only ones that see these words, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Arturia's face flushed, her heart racing briefly upon seeing he'd written down her true name on paper. What if this letter had been intercepted? She read on anyway.

I'm glad to hear the search has had some fruition. And you're right, Camelot did seem to be in need of some color. I'm happy to hear my presence is missed, my little king.

She flushed again.

But I agree on reuniting our allied forces. In five moons, we will be celebrating Akitu, a cleansing and recreating of the world for the coming year. If you and your knights can stomach our, how did your dog Lancelot put it, pagan ways, perhaps you can find it in yourself to enjoy the festivities we have to offer. I wait with bated breath for your reply, my little king.

Gilgamesh

Arturia swallowed as she read the letter. Five months. Even the existence of a time in which she could see him again filled some strange void in her gut. It was like a fresh painting over an otherwise enigmatic picture of her fantasies.

The king moved to her bed and placed the letter in a chest. It contained other things left in the Babylonian's absence: A gold arm bracelet, a pair of his earrings, and one of his robes he'd left in her chambers, all after a heated evening together. Arturia was sure he'd left them here on purpose. It was not as if he missed them, wallowing in his earthly riches. Arturia thought ill of him momentarily, and then her fingers grazed the rich crimson fabric, and her face couldn't help but darken to match its shade.

These would be a very long five months.

Fuyuki River

Archer watched the jets with relative apathy before drawing his gaze down to watch Saber fight Caster's monstrosity. At one point, one of the jets became overtaken by the demon's tentacles and pulled in, absorbed into the hunk of meat, and disappeared.

The second turned its flight path, as Archer watched. In the second it took the king to blink, a shadowy figure appeared on the jet. Inky black, trailing dark smoke. Archer could catch the gleaming color underneath Berserker's armor.

For once, Gilgamesh's stomach turned a loop. He'd seen the mad dog command swords, light posts, chunks from the ground, and turn them into weapons of his own insane destruction. Now, he had a war machine.

Berserker's claws dug into the metal hull of the aircraft. It's blackness corrupted the outer shell, like ink spilled over its hull. Archer frowned, noticing how the dark mana stained the silver wings, turning a product of modern technology into a strange, archaic amalgamation of flight and Hell.

"Oh..." Archer narrowed his eyes. "This could be problematic."

Tokiomi watched the same terrifying scene unfold and then looked down to earth.

"Archer, let me be the Master's opponent," he said back to the King. "I will find Berserker's Master and disrupt his mana consumption."

Archer grinned, "Very well. Go have your fun."

Gilgamesh's fingers twitched on the armrests of his throne, and the golden arc glided with grace further towards the ground. Still, at an impressive height, Tokiomi smoothed his overcoat and stepped calmly from the arc.

Archer looked towards the F15 jet, now a steel shadow in the sky. Thanks to the classifications of his Servant class, Gilgamesh could clearly see the gleaming crimson eyes turn to him, and then turn downward.

"Despicable mongrel," Gilgamesh muttered, the Gate of Babylon opening behind him. "You think you belong in the skies where the kings dance? A laughable offense."

Sparkling spears and blades shot out to meet the mad dog in the sky. But now that he was armed with a weapon and mount in one, Berserker broke through the gap between the tight shower of Archer's Noble Phantasms.

Gilgamesh tilted his head and the weapons turned in the air, spinning towards the F15. Berserker rolled through the air on his own Noble Phantasm and continued to avoid the barrage of weapons.

"How impertinent," Gilgamesh grumbled as he watched the jet slow in the air and turn to face him. The gleaming eyes turned down once more and then dropped like a weight, falling, and then accelerating into a nose dive. Archer found himself surprised and then looked down at the F15's path. The jet sped towards a disturbance on the surface of the river, a blur of blue and silver, towards Arturia.

Gilgamesh's bright eyes flared in instant fury. The golden arc roared to life and dove after Berserker, and Gilgamesh launching half a dozen Noble Phantasms towards the F15 in the process.

"You dare attack that which is mine!" Gilgamesh bellowed. He watched Arturia out of the corner of his eye as she seemed to be retreating to the shore, as were Lancer and Rider. He had to get that mad dog off her.

"I will plunge you into the dirt!"

More dazzling blades appeared and bore down in every direction, herding Berserker's plane into a sharper nose dive. At this rate, it would collide with Caster's monster. In response, the F15's wings opened its flaps, dragging against the air, trying to decelerate.

And then just like that, Caster's demon was gone, followed by Rider's battle cry that also faded into nothingness. He and his chariot disappeared. Archer assumed he had used his Reality Marble on the beast. As impressive as it was, it would only buy them time.

Archer's shining weapons disappeared before they hit the ground as not to stain them in filth. Berserker took advantage of this and twisted upward and shot into the air, spraying water in a violent wake beneath him. The force nearly knocked the Servants who were on the shore off their feet. F15 was turning back towards Arturia.

Archer's eyes widened as he realized F15 was turning back towards Arturia.

Babylon

Gilgamesh lay in bed, disappointed after having dismissed his latest conquest. His taste in women- and men had changed since his return to Uruk. The more delicate flowers of the court were turned away more and more. The young messengers sent off without further service to their king.

Gilgamesh laid his head back and blew his hair out of his face in frustration. He felt no satisfaction even when he has his lovers turned around, their backs serving little resemblance to Arturia's. Even the more muscular male figures he requested couldn't hold a candle to her. The combination of a woman's curves with the forms and ridges of hard labor, cut into her body as if from a chisel. He thought about running his fingers over every curve, every scar, and every dip. He groaned, low in the back of his throat as he imagined it. And it was suddenly as if he had not just finished bedding someone.

"You truly miss her more than you like to let on, my dear friend."

Gilgamesh's eyes shot open, only to see Enkidu standing over him, his hair dangling far to his knees, swinging in a breeze much gentler than the one that blew through the curtains of his room.

"You're back..." Gilgamesh groaned up at the ghost. His mind truly would never give him peace. It had been a long time since the spirit of his friend had tormented his mind. Enkidu lowered himself to Gilgamesh's side, crossing his legs underneath him.

"You missed me," he said, smiling sweetly.

"I do not." Gilgamesh closed his eyes. "I was perfectly content in your absence."

"That's because you were perfectly content in Arturia's presence."

Gilgamesh sighed and turned on his side, facing away from Enkidu, only to find himself staring at his friend once more,as if he'd been sitting on the other side of him the whole time.

"Go. Away."

Enkidu shook his head,

"But why? Your mind is churning once more. Your grief wells up once more without the comfort of the girl king."

"She is no girl."

Enkidu rolled his eyes and leaned back until he collapsed into the cushy mattress. The pillows didn't move under him. He wasn't there. Gilgamesh had that much to keep his mind tethered.

"Girl, boy, man, woman, what does it matter? You miss her."

"I miss her company."

"Wrong!" Enkidu's voice rang out like a bell. "You miss her. Of course, her company is an added benefit to her presence, and certainly, you miss her body. I know you do because I'm in your head."

"Oh, glory to the gods, you finally admit it," Gilgamesh muttered deadpan and turned back over onto his back. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands and stretched out. Enkidu had moved from the bed to the window, balancing on the smooth sandstone separator.

"You invited her to Akitu. You think she'll attend a holiday in favor of gods that are not hers?"

"Her views on religion are...malleable."

"So you've converted her."

Gilgamesh frowned, "No. Why am I talking to you?"

"You're the one who wanted me here."

The king sat up and tossed a pillow at Enkidu. It flew through him and disappeared out the window. Gilgamesh cared little for its absence and leaned back again.

"Deny it all you want, but the more and more you try and replace her with cheap imitations," said Enkidu, "the more you'll find you can't be satisfied with a fake."

Gilgamesh growled, begging his mind to clear. He finally stood up and lazily wrapped his robes around him before heading to his garden. And yet, even there, memories of Arturia lingered. Their talk of an alliance, her shock of his display with another woman, the sight of her in the Babylonian dress. He breathed in the scent of the greenery and gave into the memories.

A/N: -hangs head in shame-