Heart of the Great Grail
CkyKing: HP&Fate/Stay Night prompt
Pairing : Lancer (Diarmuid Ua Duibhne)/Harry Potter
(7-8 years after the War, Harry fight Voldemort. Let's watch as the Great Grail unleashes its power upon the being that dared taint it/them. And he is not alone, Harry re-summoned the Servants loyal to him to help him fight and I really want to see the reunion between Lancer and Harry.
Flashback :
Harry grant the wish of the winner and truly become aware of his power as the Great Grail when the path to Akasha is opened.
I would be eternally grateful if you could manage to make Harry wear the Dress of Heaven, even though he is not an homonculus, the Dress of Heaven is the heart that controls the Great Grail, so he can wear it because it's in a way a part of him.)
0o0o0
There is a place that power goes. Power is magic, it is will, it is achievement, it is wishing, it is hoping, it is dreaming, it is doing and being. It is having, taking, giving. Everyone on Earth has a little power, even if they do not think they do.
Harry Potter knows this, for he walks though that place of power clad in the Dress of Heaven, it is eerie white and with ribbons of red and delicate gold's. Harry has tasted that power of all people, touched its heroes and heard songs no one on Earth now remembers.
In dreams Harry as the Great Grail, smiles and walks within Akasha where he belongs; it is here, Harry does not question, that he will go when he dies. It is home. He is the heart of Akasha. He has seen his name inscribed upon the Throne of Heroes. This is where he came from, and to where he will go.
Harry Potter first saw it when he was twelve years old, and called upon as the Great Grail to grant the Wish of a Master. Akasha had opened for him to see the power plainly, and it had poured the power into him, filled him up past full, touched him with light enough to illuminate his skin, had crowned him and called his name and had left him feeling lonely.
That had been the Wish, and Harry did not even care what it had been.
Akasha had been like a lover, like family, like friends, like home to him. He missed it when he woke.
It wasn't gone, for Harry could see the lines of power that even muggles called lay lines, and witches and wizards called Gaia's magic, and magi and mages and magicians alone had the idiocy to try to claim and tame.
Harry is a wizard, and what he's learnt that means is this; he can never be a magician, a so called mage or magi. That isn't what he is. He does not manipulate power as they do, he is a part of that power. He has power – more power than he knows what to do with, more power than anyone truthfully does. There is the power of being the heart of Akasha, clad in the Dress of Heaven; but that is not all that Harry is, he is a wizard, a child of Gaia the Earth. He knows this, for he has met with her.
Her hair is dark and done up in an artful bun, the rest falling upon her shoulders. She smiles to see him, to greet him.
"A child of my magic, the Great Grail, I am proud." She reaches for him and Harry let's her take his hands in hers, they are warm and dry. Here she can be seen and spoken to, and Harry is awed. She has a will of magic all her own, and Harry can hear the whisper of it, he knows the will of Gaia as well as the pulse of his own heart – but he is the Great Grail and the vessel of Akasha's will, the wishes of Arayashiki – or Alaya as is her preference .
"I would think you would loath and not love a savior of people." Alaya stands tall and proud, unsmiling at Gaia. She is ever at Harry's side, but rarely speaks what she thinks; Arayashiki is the will of people of all ages – to survive, to thrive, and to be remembered. Her moods are as changeable as any riot or rave.
"What, child of my magic, do you call those people who have none of my gifts, who do not hear me?" Gaia's eyes are red as flashing fire, and Harry dares not answer.
"Muggles." Gaia chuckles, knowing it for a word like mugging, like mud… which is not earth, not air, and not water, but something else, and usually useless and dirty. Alaya's high cheeks flush at the implied insult; Gaia's face is rounder and serene. Alaya's eyes narrow, but she does not flinch away.
"Very clever, my child…it is good to speak, to be heard and listened to – there is only so much to be suffered and endured." Her hands, in Harry's own tighten with a fraction of strength that takes his breath away for it could crush and smother him and he would be no more.
"Do not pity her. She would kill all people, magician, wizard, human alike. Ask her how the Dark Lord lives when he should die." Harry's green eyes meet her fire bright ones, and there is something like sorrow there.
"None of you heard me, no one heeded my warnings, and so I asked for aid, to survive, as is my right." Harry breaths shallow and slow, and listens now very carefully -now, when it is too late.
"There are those called the True Ancestors; and while the Fairies are kin to Wizards and my people – these strangers are not born of me, of nature. They came to kill." Gaia's tears are stones that fall clear as any crystal and do not break.
"Kill what…who?" Harry asks, and despite being safe in Akasha, it's heart, it's Great Grail – he is cold.
"Kill you, all of you – humans, it matters not at all if they are muggle, or magus, or wizard born. True Ancestors will hunt you all, and will slay you until your blood is no more." Alaya's voice is raw with grief and rage, and Gaia looks upon her and is silent as the judging grave.
"How…how are they these True Ancestors concerned with the Dark Lord?" Harry asked, shakily.
"One sought to make him a Dead Apostle, a vampire. Only in part did the True Ancestor succeed. The Dark Lord can not die." Gaia sounded sure, and her grip on Harry's hands was almost painful.
"That does not mean, Great Grail, that he can not be Sealed by the Burial Agency of the Church." Alaya insisted, and with her hand upon his shoulder, Gaia let him go.
"How?" Harry asked, knowing how shaken he sounded.
"You will have help." Alaya promised, with a kiss to his brow.
0o0o0
Harry Potter woke up – and waking after dreaming of Akasha was always done with an inner painful reluctance. This time it was less to do with an ache of his soul, and more the ache of his body and bones. He remembered what had happened before his dreaming, the clash between the Dark Lord Voldemort and himself.
It had been upon the grounds of Hogwarts, and now he was not there. He was elsewhere, so he knew that the pain meant he was caught. It was dark and he could not see his cage. He closed his eyes, Alaya had promised him help – but where was it?
Silence rung in his ears, and a sneer crossed his lips - some Great Grail he was. A Master's used a summons for a Servant – and the Fifth Holy Grail War had no yet started. He smiled; so let it start.
He too would summon Servants, he needed not the design, for he was the design, the very Great Grail – what he needed, had already been spilled, blood – his blood, was strong enough to smell.
Harry knew just how bad a sign that was – and what summoning might do him further harm rather than good, depending on the Servant.
He called to Akasha, to Alaya, to Gaia. The power flowed, filling and full and the light that lit his cage- it was made from his own skin, shining brighter than any luminous of the wand. The power summoned seven Servants for him, for he was no mere Master, but a Great Grail.
"You're bleeding." Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, Harry could tell by his tone – even if he could not yet see the Lancer Servant, for he was too tired to yet open his eyes – was outraged. Harry couldn't help but smile. He felt Diarmuid's encircle him, holding him steady.
"Hello to you too, Lancer..." Harry was aware of how tired he sounded, and how his words slurred.
"Who did thus to thee, Great Grail..?" Arturia Pendragon demanded her voice very low and threatening. He felt her touch his face, turning to see the damage there. She snarled and spat to the side, into the rough dirt of his cage.
"Step aside, Saber. I will save what I can." This was a woman's voice he had never before heard.
"Who, who are you?" Harry demanded of her, glad that Arturia did not do as she asked, likely standing firmly between this strange Servant and the Great Grail.
"I am the Caster Medea – and he needs me. He is kin to me, so step aside." This time, when Harry nodded, Arturia did so, moving to sit at his side and keeping a hand upon his own. He squeezed it in thanks.
Medea's hands were upon his brow, and she inhaled sharply to see more than the mar of a lightning bolt upon it.
"A curse mark, upon the Great Grail… We must be rid of it. Or my help or not, he will not heal whole. Great Grail, my descendent, I give you my vow." Harry tried to open his eyes, to see her, but again saw nothing but darkness.
"What…what is wrong with me? Why can I not see?" Harry demanded it of them, not caring how he stuttered to speak.
"You are blinded." Alexander the Great, the Rider speaks, in his usual blunt way.
"Be silent." Gilgamesh demands of him, the Archer's tone promising pain if he is not obeyed. Harry does not want to think of Gilgamesh, King of Kings, for he knows that he likely did terrible things for the greater good – and would not hesitate to break and build anew all that there is.
"Name them that did thus to you, and I will slay in your name, Great Grail." Hassan-i-Sabah speaks as soft as silk, an Assassin at heart.
"Not…can't die, the Dark Lord – gave me…the curse scar." Harry reflected in irony, that once that lighting bolt scar had been his favorite feature.
"He…he needs to be Sealed." Harry breathes through his mouth, shakily. Medea's hands are warm, too warm, upon his face. She pours her magic into him, and he sucks it up greedily, but it does not touch the pain or his blindness.
Harry knows than, that he is dying.
"Was it a Dead Apostle or a True Ancestor?" Gilgamesh asks, sounding thoughtful. Harry wonders if he knows ways to Seal them, or worse. It is best he does not ask, for the answer is probably a little of both.
"The Dark Lord's Death Eaters, Voldemort, Tom…Tom Riddle…white skulls, snakes – marked on arms." Harry tries hard to tell them everything he can, but Medea kisses him like a mother on his brow when he can not seem to find the right words to say.
"We kill." It rumbles out of the dark, a promise made in the midst of madness.
The Berserker, Harry knows will lead what Harry has unleashed, a Wild Hunt of Heroic Spirits, they who have no need to rest; who can not be escaped. It is not in Harry to feel pity for them, he hurts so.
"Hush, my child. It is enough." Medea's touch is gentle, and she holds him, pouring her power into him. She shares with him what she Sees, what one of his Servants lays eyes upon, all share alike. This she shares with him freely, a gift. He will not be blind.
"Is breá liom tú." * Harry feels the kiss of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne upon his lips and gasps as he feels his curse scar grow cold. It, he knows without Medea saying so, heals.
Gilgamesh gives a gift to Kirei Kotomine, and it is Sealed.
0o0o0
Is breá liom tú. *
Irish: I love you.
Servants of the Great Grail:
Saber: Arturia Pendragon
Lancer: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne
Archer: Gilgamesh
Caster: Medea – ? Mage's Association- Unknown/(acting) Kuzuki Souichirou
Rider: Alexander the Great - Sakura Matou/ Shinji Matou
Berserker: Heracles/ Hercules
Assassin: Hassan-i-Sabah
0o0o0
The Fourth Holy Grail War is Fate/zero, the Fifth Holy Grail War is Fate/stay night. In which it becomes obvious that something had corrupted the Lesser Grail and Great Grail.
(Class : Servant – Master)
Saber: Arturia Pendragon - Shirou Emiya (adopted son of Kiritsugu Emiya)
Lancer: Cú Chulainn (Sétanta) - Bazett Fraga McRemitz/ Kirei Kotomine (who still retains alliance with the surviving Archer Servant Gilgamesh)
Archer: Shirou Emiya (Counter Guardian; alternant timeline) - Rin Tohsaka
Caster: Medea – ? Mage's Association- Unknown/(acting) Kuzuki Souichirou
Rider: Medusa - Sakura Matou/ Shinji Matou
Berserker: Heracles/ Hercules- Illyasviel von Einzbern (daughter of Kiritsugu Emiya and Irisviel von Einzbern)
Assassin: "Sasaki Kojirou"/ Nameless Samurai – Medea (Master!Caster)
True Assassin: Hassan-i-Sabah - Zouken Matou