Chapter Nineteen

The Faker to the Kings

Rider gritted her teeth as she placed a hand on the burning arc on her back. A frown twisted her features when her fingers came back soaked with her own blood. The motorcycle had been abandoned; she had to get away from the people watching the race or face three people's disappointment she cared not to. She could not bring the chase back to Sakura and Shirou, and Saber was not the warrior she once was.

So Rider fled to the one man she knew she could count on without fail.

And her chest was tight as she realized she signed his death warrant.

Yet Archer was leaning slightly on his door step, his legs crossed at the ankles and sock covered feet idly tapping the threshold. His tone was flippant, but Rider had seen his fearlessness before. She was also aware of his prowess in combat. For a man that was not a true Heroic Spirit he should have been one, and she admired that all of his abilities were ones he had sweated and bled for. Despite all of those facts, ice was running in her veins at the thought of her comrade fighting against the divine being she had brought to his doorstep.

The golden haired man, Gilgamesh as Archer had addressed him, chuckled as he slid his hands into the pockets of his immaculate suit. Crimson eyes narrowed distastefully at Rider before lingering on the white haired man taking up arms to protect her. He answered, "You should feel honored that I'm lowering myself to come to such a . . . hovel to visit you. I did inform you that this was far from over."

"Well, then maybe I should invite you inside for tea. After all I should extend the courtesy of my home to a king," Archer said as he stood up straight.

Rider blinked at Archer as Gilgamesh paused, his eyes wide before he threw his head back in a rough bark of laughter. He replied, "You are a surprising one, Faker. Well, I was correct to assume you wouldn't bore me."

"And I've been told I make tea fit for a king. Before we settle our previous conflict, why don't you come inside?" Archer said with a shrug.

Rider bit her lip and hissed from her hiding place, "Are you mad, Archer?"

A lopsided grin cast briefly in her direction was all the answer she received. Gilgamesh tilted his head as he looked at Archer then at the building Archer owned with its garage and apartment. The blond's nose curled up ever so slightly before he laughed again, the sound

grating against Rider's nerves. Her nails bit into the wall as she watch Gilgamesh approach. The blond man stood at the doorstep and said, "I accept your invitation, Faker."

"Then come in," Archer said with a smile that didn't quite reach his steely eyes.

Gilgamesh slid out of what had to be snakeskin loafers, Rider cringed slightly at the shoes, and headed up the steps to Archer's apartment. Rider pressed her body deeper into her hiding spot between the hallway and the apartment as Archer followed his impromptu guest up. Gilgamesh automatically started to head into the kitchen when Archer whispered to Rider.

"Can you summon your mount?"

She nodded and answered, "Yes."

"Then . . . we're going to need all the help we can get. As soon as I'm with him get outside and get ready," he said before his eyes met hers.

Rider stared at Archer for a moment before impulsively leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. The smell of iron, smoke, and leather filled her nostrils as her lips met wondrous warmth. Then she retreated before he could return the kiss and he looked at her with wide eyes and a dusky blush to his bronze cheeks. She smiled at him and brushed her thumb against his bottom lip and said, "I know this will never be anything."

"Rider," Archer said as he stared at her with wide, childlike eyes.

Her chest was tight as she looked at him and said, "You're coveted by too much royalty for my tastes." Then without another word she dashed down the steps to aid her friend this time, ignoring the scalding ache in her back and the sinking ache in her heart as she moved.

The sight of Gilgamesh sitting at his kitchen table and staring at everything with an oddly childlike fascination was such an oddity that Archer took a moment to watch the king. Strangely graceful hands reached out to pick up the stainless steel salt shaker resting on the immaculate counter before putting it back down again. Crimson eyes passed over the appliances, utensils, and ingredients that were available to view before moving to the kitchen table. A chair was pulled out and he gracefully sank down to it before looking up at Archer.

". . . It's clean here," the Sumerian demi-god said with a bit of a sulking frown.

Archer chuckled as he poured water into the tea kettle before setting it to boil. He said, "I'm not in the business of serving salmonella."

"Not that such a lowly organism could make me fall ill," Gilgamesh said with a snort.

Archer looked down at his white socks with their gray toes and heels made of thick cotton. They were comfortable to wear around the house, but impractical for a fight. I bought myself a couple of minutes, better well make them count, he thought. He forced a smile on his face and said, "I'll be back."

Within moments he was in his bedroom and bolting the last bolt of his all too familiar steel reinforced boots that he had worn as a Servant that were brought back with him. They were a gift from his lifetime from a precious friend after his lover had left him behind. No time to get sentimental, what's now is now, and I have a king to potentially kill, Archer said as he heard footsteps approaching.

He turned to find Gilgamesh standing in his bedroom doorway with his hands on his hips and now in his shirtsleeves. The bright red fabric was now rolled up to the elbow and the tie was missing as well. Analysis. Break down into eight parts and reconstruct. He whispered, "Trace. On."

Kansho formed in his left hand, sleek and black with its honeycomb red pattern, and gleaming snow white Bakuya burst into reality in his right. He saw crimson eyes widen ever so slightly, but he was already in motion. The black blade swung high while he brought pristine white steel low in a curving, dancelike motion. Gilgamesh jumped backwards with a curse, but Archer was already moving up again as the other man moved to snap his finger.

Don't let him get Ea. Don't let him activate the Gate, he thought, his mind processing the King of Heroes next move. With a bellow, Gilgamesh reached back right as Archer sliced again. The king's hand disappeared in that all too familiar crimson miasma while he fell back when the falchion's blade barely missed flesh and sliced through silk. Gilgamesh roared as he swung Gram from overhead.

Archer twisted to the side, crossed Kansho and Bakyua together and caught the broadsword's strike. The twin swords began to crack under the force of the Noble Phantasm, so Archer pivoted even more as he let them shatter, spilling into stardust, and Gilgamesh stumbled forward. Gleaming steel struck heavily against the polished wood floor, and Archer drew back his hand and clinched it.

A Faker's fist met the King's face, causing him to reel backwards from the force of the blow. More prana forced Kansho and Bakyua into reality again and the air rippled behind Gilgamesh as the slim, gleaming blade of Durandal materialized in his hands. There was a hint of red dribbling from Gilgamesh's nose, but he was smiling with narrowed eyes as he absently wiped his face with the back of his arm. Archer spun, swinging low as he used his own momentum to slash upwards.

The clang of steel meeting steel rang through the apartment as Gilgamesh blocked with his latest chosen treasure. Archer gritted his teeth as Gilgamesh simply smiled and pressed forward with his sword, backing Archer back with his incredible power. Their faces were centimeters away and framed by their chosen weapons. Then, with a roar, Gilgamesh pushed forward hard.

Archer stumbled back slightly, but dug his heel into the floor to keep from losing his ground, but the motion brought Gilgamesh closer to him. "You are fun, Faker," Gilgamesh said before his laughter boomed larger than life around the hallway. Then he leaned forward faster than a snake and his lips pressed against Archer's.

Ice flowed through Archer's veins as Gilgamesh forced a kiss, not like Rider's stolen one moments before.

Tears gleamed in emerald eyes as Saber's small hands pushed fruitlessly against her attacker. Gilgamesh held her down with ease as his legs started to force hers apart. Saber was screaming the same word over and over again, drowning out demeaning taunts as he prepared to force himself on her.

No.

No.

Red filled Archer's vision as he drove his knee up with every ounce of reinforced strength that he could. Gilgamesh staggered, coughed and wobbled before his hands cupped himself protectively as he fell to his knees. The precious sword clattered to the floor and Archer felt a smile split his face as his heart was pounding like a drum while his blood was roaring in his veins.

He hurt Rider.

He hurt Saber.

He hurt Saber.

I will have his head. My reality overrides his own. He will not force himself on anyone again.

"You are not a hero," Archer sneered as he lifted Kansho up for the finishing blow.

Gilgamesh yelled as hellish red filled the apartment and sword after sword rippled into view. Archer's eyes widened as he saw the window behind the king right as the sword rain began to fall.

With a yell he jumped towards it as swords pelted his apartment with shattering force, destroying everything they touched. There were burning flashes of pain on his sides and his arms that were quick and sharp followed by liquid warmth that was almost soothing. He ignored it as glass shattered around him as the ground was rushing to meet him. Archer twisted, reinforcing himself to land on his feet, but he didn't make it.

Something biting wrapped around his waist and jerked hard. Air rushed from his lungs and he coughed hard as every fiber of his being was jerked with jarring force. He spun around to see himself being pulled by a chain up to were Gilgamesh was now standing at Archer's now broken window.

Until blinding white filled his vision right as the chain was dropped and Archer was yet again falling to the ground.