Author's note: Are these chapters too short? I'm not feeling it for some reason.
Waiting for Archer to recover gave Sigurd time to spend with Esme. She was still in communications with Archer's Master and they'd both agreed that sending Sigurd out to scout alone was a poor idea. It was all too likely that Caster would attack him with Lancer. Given what they'd done to Archer, it was likely he would be overwhelmed.
My beloved Brynhildr, will I truly have to fight you? Sigurd wondered, gazing away vacantly as he stood on the top of the tower. The view from here was spectacular, woods and greenery to the West, the suburbs of the city to the East. The sun was just rising and, catching the clouds, it was brightening the sky with pink and gold. Sigurd saw none of it, his gaze fixed inward to a vista of bleakness. Can I fight you? Can I truly raise a weapon against the woman I love?
Then his thoughts were interrupted as something warm pressed against his side.
"It's cold up here. You don't mind if I…?" Esme said so softly Sigurd strained to hear. It was… familiar… very familiar. Smiling softly, he put arm around her shoulders. She was wearing a soft blue gown, he noticed, caught beneath the bodice with a string tied in a bow. Glancing back over the wall of the tower, Sigurd truly took in the beauty of the sunrise. Ah, how gorgeous. "Sigurd… you don't mind staying… with me…?" Sigurd glanced down and saw she was also looking at the sunrise but from the sad, troubled look on her face, Esme wasn't seeing it. Ah, what a pair are we.
"Not at all," Sigurd reassured her, giving her a comforting squeeze. "I admit that it wasn't my wish but this modern era intrigues me." Although he found aspects of it… troubling. Esme looked up at him, those gentle yet too-wise eyes seeing his 'numbers' again.
"You feel like you're lying a little," Esme said and Sigurd sighed internally. While it was pleasant to have a woman who could see through his stoicism… Brynhildr had also had that gift… it could be damn troublesome at times.
"Not about staying with you. I embrace that," Sigurd reassured her and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. "This modern era is not entirely too my taste. Yet, it's nothing to worry about." It really wasn't. Esme cocked her head to the side, looking like a curious bird.
"What is it that bothers you?" Sigurd frowned. He didn't want her to think he was staying just for her even if, well, he was… "I haven't seen anything… please?" Sigurd blinked as he saw Esme's uneasiness. Oh, of course, she was worried about the world she'd never seen.
"Well, the first thing that bothers me is how crowded it is," Sigurd said slowly, considering it as he spoke. "Of course, this is a very large town so that's natural. But in my day, towns like this didn't exist." Sigurd turned his head to look over the town. Truly, it was unthinkably large. "There was a town around my castle, you know. It was probably the biggest town in my kingdom and yet, it doesn't hold a candle to this."
"That's not the only thing, is it?" Esme asked and Sigurd frowned. The rest was so nebulous it was hard to articulate but… well, he'd do his best.
"The people here are different, somehow," Sigurd said, thinking on it. "In my day, you knew what you were… slave, warrior, wife and mother. It was like we were… that thing… more powerfully?" He was making a botch of this. "We were… more focused? I don't know how to say it," Sigurd finished, feeling frustrated with himself and the whole line of questioning. He thought perhaps he was projecting his feelings about staying on the people he'd interacted with? Then Esme's hand caught his, giving him a gentle squeeze.
"I understand what you're trying to say… it's because of Alaya," Esme said and Sigurd blinked, looking at her. "Sigurd, when you were alive humanity was counted in the millions. Now it's counted in the billions." …Ah, that was true, but how did that make the difference he had noticed? "Every human is a small part of Alaya, so the material is spread thin. It's like… the base material has changed. When you were alive, humans were made of silver. Now we're made of bronze." Ah… was that what he had noticed? A fundamental shift? Although one part of that caught his attention.
"Silver, not gold? How outrageous!" Sigurd said, meaning it as a gentle tease. "We were gold, I assure you!" Esme giggled softly but shook her head.
"No, the golden age would have been earlier. Humanity was spreading widely when you lived," Esme said and Sigurd wondered if she was right. Well, possibly, he wouldn't know. "It has to be this way though. Once I… took a walk in the roots and I saw… I saw humanity reaching for the stars," Esme said, reaching a hand up, as if she would cup the sun. Sigurd was entranced. "And we go, leaving Gaia behind to wither and die… this expansion, this change, is the only way to find that future. So it just has to be."
"…Ah." Sigurd looked up at the sky. The sun was up now, the sky less pretty as the gilding faded, yet still quite lovely. "Is that so…" He hadn't known the nature of the sun and stars when he'd been alive, but thanks to the Grail he did now. There would be other worlds out there, capable of holding the flame of Humanity. "Then I shall embrace it," Sigurd finally said. Yes, it seemed a change for the worse, but sometimes things had to get worse before they could get better. Hey, wait a moment. "What time is it?" Breakfast wasn't served too early but they had to be getting close.
"Umm…?" Esme pulled out her necklace. It was a long golden chain with a simple pocket watch at the end. "Oh… we have twenty-three minutes before breakfast. Should we go?"
"Yes, we should. We wouldn't want to miss it," Sigurd said with a small smile. "Particularly since it should be omelettes today." He'd noticed the meals rotated, although once in a while something random was thrown in. Esme looked bewildered for a moment.
"Oh, there's a pattern? I didn't notice." Which showed how indifferent she was to food. "But I like omelettes. Yes, let's go." Esme smiled up at him and it was as beautiful as the sunrise, giving her face a gentle glow. Dazzling. Sigurd smiled to himself as they walked down the stairs to the dining room.
If this change was needed for greater things, he would embrace it with all his heart.
That night, as he slept, Sigurd dreamed.
He dreamed of tiny hands playing with a doll. It was a rag doll, old and worn but with a cheerful little face and button eyes.
"It's my birthday today," a voice that was not his own said solemnly to the doll. Tiny feet kicked at dark stone, stone that matched the tower. "Will mommy and daddy come home? Will they bring me something?" Sigurd felt himself cuddle the doll to his chest. This body, it was so tiny, how old was this child? "If my birthday happens but there's no one there to know, did it really happen at all?" …Oh gods. Sigurd could feel the soft cloth, the yarn hair against his cheek. "Why don't we go play in the tree again?"
The child stood up and Sigurd realized how short she was as she began to walk through a place that was not the tower, yet seemed built on the same lines. She – this had to be Esme's memories – tucked the doll under her arm. Then she began to walk. As she did, the walls of the hallway distorted. Sigurd watched in awe as the child unknowingly walked from one world to another.
The world she walked into was one of gigantic roots and dirt, but not dark and dank. No, it was fantastic and beautiful, filled with glorious lights. Sigurd watched in awe as he saw the roots pulsing with pure life, so much it almost hurt his senses. Yet the child was unaffected or perhaps, even bathing in it, soaking it up? Ah yes, that was it, she was part of this life and had adapted to it in the way only children could. At one point she paused, looking over a complicated knot of roots and Sigurd realized, with a sense of shock, that they formed a rune. He knew that rune, Brynhildr had taught it to him…
"Isn't it pretty Griselda?" The little girl held out the dolly towards the rune made of roots. "Remember, we can look but not touch!" Why couldn't they touch? "Mommy says if you touch the roots you go away!" Sigurd felt a chill. Did that mean…? "Where do you go? I don't know, mommy wouldn't say and made me go back to bed." Ah, Esme had snuck out of bed, how like a child. "But I would be sad if you went away Griselda, so look but don't touch!"
Finished admiring the rune, the little girl continued on her way, skipping with bare feet over the earthen floor. It was warm, Sigurd noticed, warm and very pleasant on little feet. Then she abruptly came to a halt as there was a billow of blue. Sigurd recognized it as a kind of summoning just before it solidified into a Servant? He nearly panicked before remembering that this was just a memory. Nothing here could harm the child, or Esme would not be the woman she was.
It was hard to hold onto that, though, as the girl had to look up to see the Servant. He was a tall man with tanned skin and shockingly white hair, yet not old. No, he was young and wore clothing of black and red, very finely made. Such clothing would have cost a fortune when Sigurd lived and he didn't think it was much cheaper in Esme's age, either. The man seemed startled to see a small child, grey eyes widening. Sigurd spotted a quick flash of horror, then sudden relief before the man smiled.
"Ah, child, I'm so glad you belong here." …Hm… interesting… "But I'm afraid you can't play here today."
"Wh-who are you? Why can't I play today?" Esme asked, her voice squeaky. The Servant knelt down to put them on the same level and it worked, Sigurd could tell the little girl felt more at ease as the man smiled again. He really had a very charming smile.
"Please, call me Archer. And it's not you, it's your friend," he said carefully and Sigurd felt a deep shock. "He can't go any farther, I'm sorry."
"But Griselda's a girl. She's my only friend and I've taken her past this before," the little girl said and the Servant Archer shook his head with another smile.
"You have a new friend, a boy." Esme looked around, as if she could see him. Sigurd was still in shock. They could tell he was watching? He was not allowed to go further into the roots of Yggdrasil? "But he can't tell you his name… hmm, we should name him. I like the name Bob." …Alright, now he was being mocked. Esme shook her head, cuddling her doll to her chest.
"No, I don't like that name. I have a new friend and it's a boy?" the little girl mused before turning to the roots. "What should I name him?" she asked the Tree of Life and Sigurd watched in awe as the walls seemed to pulse. "They say he's… um… that's too long." Oh, were they giving her his full name? Amusing. "I'll call him Sig. That's a good name!" Sigurd appreciated that. The man chuckled, a soft, amused sound.
"Yes, that's a good name. Why don't you go play with him and Griselda back at your home?" Archer suggested and the little girl nodded. But then she looked at the man with childish solemnity.
"Mister Archer, you seem sad. Would you like a hug?" Esme asked and Archer's eyes widened before softening.
"I would love a hug," he said before opening his arms invitingly. Esme took the invitation and settled against him. Sigurd could smell something strange, a faint hint of ozone as the Servant embraced her. A warm hand went through her hair as he cuddled her close. "Ah, child, I am so, so glad you belong here," he murmured and Sigurd understood. This man was a guardian of the Root. If Esme had not belonged, he would have been obliged to kill her. "Now, go on home. You can come back tomorrow," Archer said as he released her and Esme nodded.
"Bye Archer! If you're here tomorrow we can play together!" she said and Sigurd knew that could not be. The guardian had only manifested because of his presence. Archer said nothing, though, only smiling before the child skipped away, back the way she'd come. "Let's go home Sig, Griselda. We should have a tea party!" A tea party? "Since Sig is a boy he can have the blue cup and Griselda will have the pink cup. I'll have the yellow cup, I like yellow." Ah, this was cute.
They departed the roots of Yggdrasil and soon they were safely ensconced in a playroom. Sigurd watched, with amusement, as Esme set her doll in a chair and brought out the tea set. Soon she was pouring them imaginary tea and chattering to her new friend. Ah, the imagination of a child was marvelous. Although… would her birthday really pass completely unremarked? Sigurd's heart ached for the child as she served them all imaginary cake. It really seemed that it would. At least Esme was happy now, but it still seemed so sad.
It was tragic for any child to be so lacking in love.