Oh, no, let me treat you. You've had a time of it lately, haven't you? Let me relieve you of that burden this time, and the next time you can pay. [He pauses.] I tried this Italian restaurant a bit ago with a damn good lasagna. You just have to not look anyone in the eye too long.
[He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, falling into step next to Edward.]
The former. He's fine, we're not arguing or anything stupid like that, but...some magic bullshit showed me something I don't think either of us was ever meant to know about.
Yeah--my own fault, I hadn't eaten anything in a while and it being fish totally escaped me for a second. Otherwise I wouldn't have this problem in the first place.
[He made a brief sound of disgust, scowling slightly.]
My predecessor...Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was a mage of incredible skill and talent. He was also a vile, arrogant, classist piece of shit--because he was a mage.
Was this in the fae realm? [During the day somebody had sat on him so he wouldn't go haring off to rescue people and therefore get cursed by fairies?]
I've heard of, stolen from, and killed men and women like that. Being vile, arrogant, classist pieces of absolute shite isn't exclusive to mages. [Edward ought to know, having been a poor farmer before he'd turned to privateering.] Did you—see something that involved him, then, when you ate of the fish?
Yeah, it was. I was trying not to eat anything, but...well, that's not exactly sustainable.
[good effort, though]
I know that, of course. The slight difference here is mages pride themselves on those qualities as a whole. But the thing is...Kayneth fought in the Holy Grail War the same as me, ten years ago. But a student he'd offended stole his original catalyst, so he had to replace it in a hurry. That meant he summoned a Berserker-class Servant named Lancelot.
[A deep breath.]
But what if he didn't? In another timeline, with any number of tiny changes, it wasn't Berserker he summoned...but Lancer.
[Edward stops in his tracks for a moment, recalling a conversation with Diarmuid held not too long ago, before the man had entrusted his relic into Edward's keeping: I was incredibly close to being, and in another branch of history was, summoned not by Waver but by a selfish man who cared only for power.
He starts again, catching up with Waver quickly enough, linking his fingers behind his neck, casual as ever.]
...let me guess. You were that student, and he'd wronged you in some manner. So you stole his relic, and so Lancer came to you, instead. But in another timeline—you didn't steal his relic for whatever reason, so he got to summon the Servant he wanted.
[Bile churns in his stomach at the thought of Diarmuid, someone he considers a friend, someone who trusts Edward with something so dangerous and so personal, in the hands of a man who sounds like he'd fit all too well into the Templars. Shit.]
Diarmuid didn't do well under his thumb, did he. [This is not a question more than it's simply Edward confirming a suspicion he has.]
No, I think I still stole it--in that world I was still part of the war. I estimate the difference lies in the relic itself, not in what I did.
[That had to be the hinge, he'd reasoned. If another Waver was the Master of Rider, then how else would he have claimed a catalyst except to steal it?]
It's...funny. I remember thinking, all those years ago...what a narrow miss that was. I knew even then--Kayneth would have treated any Servant as no more than a weapon. And for someone like Diarmuid, who only wanted his Master's approval...that would have been a fate worse than death.
[He took another slow breath, eyes distant as he walked next to Edward.]
When we encountered him and Berserker, I broke my leg and couldn't fight back anymore. Kayneth gave me a choice: die then and there, or withdraw from the Holy Grail War. Thought it would look better, you know, to brush aside an insect than crush it. But for a Master and Servant to withdraw would entail using one's Command Seals...to order their Servant to commit suicide.
No, and that's what I'm getting at. He was fighting Berserker at the time; we had separated because one of us had to track down Kayneth and Lancelot ambushing us was too much of a problem to go ignored.
[His cane tapped against the ground with every step as usual; it still ached and always would, but that was fine. Scars were a mark of one's survival, and this one was the most important.]
I used that order to empower him to defeat Berserker in a single strike. I put my life in his hands, trusted that he would both finish things and save my life in the next second, or we would both die. Because to do anything else...would be unthinkable. Betraying someone who had already been betrayed like that in life was cruelty well worth dying to avoid. He cut down Lancelot and Kayneth both, and I woke up two days later with a ruined leg and a knight who looked at me like I was some kind of valiant hero myself--and it felt like a complete victory.
And I'm telling you all of this, Edward, because I think what I saw was the same kind of situation with exactly the opposite outcome.
[Edward listens to him recount the battle, and thinks of how much trust such an action would require. Waver had placed his life in Diarmuid's hands, and Diarmuid had more than risen to the occasion. That kind of loyalty, that kind of love is rare, and it breaks Edward's heart to know there was a version of events that hadn't turned out like that.
Because Kayneth wouldn't know how to trust someone he saw as a weapon, if he's anything like the Templars Edward's dealt with in the past. People like that tend to think other people think just like they do—everyone else is a pawn to be moved, or sheep to be corralled onto the narrow path. The sort of trust Waver speaks of requires something that they're not capable of doing: seeing someone else as a person.]
Kayneth wouldn't have thought twice about betraying him, if it meant it was to save his own arse from the fire. Am I getting that right?
Not at all. Something like that is second nature for mages--we fight and kill one another for our own advancements, and have for centuries. Even I'm hardly any different, as the one who carries the title of the man my Servant killed.
[There was no shame in those words; it was statement of fact and nothing more. Lord El-Melloi II was not Kayneth, but he was a mage all the same; for all the ugliness that entailed even alongside the desire to fix that broken system.]
...I saw him with another Master; an assassin I only know secondhand. It would have been no difficult thing for him to manipulate Kayneth into a similar situation. The next thing I knew-
[His voice caught briefly, Waver clearing his throat and trying to keep the distress off his face. When he spoke again, he gestured with his right hand--still carrying two remaining crimson seals on it.]
Diarmuid's spear was through his chest before he even realized what he was doing. That's the absolute compulsion of a Command Seal. I don't--I don't know what kind of bullshit he dealt with up to then, but he just snapped with the kind of anger I've never seen from him. Anger and abject misery, because he would have known it was the tragedy of his life as a mortal retreaded all over again.
'Let the Grail be cursed. Let the wish it grants bring disaster. And when you fall into the pits of hell, remember the rage of Diarmuid.'
[Honestly, it's not as if Edward can judge. He's a pirate himself, a man who fought and killed for his own advancement, who was quite willing to take another pirate's ship and see it used as a fireship to break a blockade just so he could escape. And he'd liked Jack Rackham, drunken fool that he was. He's not about to judge Waver on the ugliness accompanying the title he carries when he's soaked in it. At least Waver wants to fix things.
Edward keeps quiet, but the horror and anger on this alternate Diarmuid's behalf is written clear across his face.]
That rat bastard. [Haha wow lot of venom there, Edward.] Jesus, I'm sorry for that version of Diarmuid. He's bloody loyal, and I ain't ever seen someone with a heart sewn so obviously onto their sleeve. To be rewarded with the worst of betrayals...no wonder he cursed them so utterly.
No, and that's why I'm telling you. Because I had to trust someone with this, and Diarmuid can never know.
[Someone who knew from experience that Waver would die for his Servant in an instant, and therefore understood just how severe an insult he found this whole thing. How painful it was, to know how close disaster could have been.]
He's already aware Kayneth summoned him in another timeline, but if he found out how badly it truly went, the kind of fury he was driven to...it would destroy him. Not knowing about that world does no material damage to either of us, so this is one secret I have to keep.
[He pushed dark hair out of his face and let out a slow breath, trying to keep himself relatively collected.]
Diarmuid was dealt an unfair hand a long, long time ago, and someone he swore loyalty to let him die because of it. But he still...won't let himself be angry about that, I think. Because that's conduct unbecoming of a knight.
I'm his Master, his partner--so I want to bear that anger on his behalf. At Fionn, at Kayneth, at so many miserable fucking circumstances outside of anyone's control.
He'll not hear of it from me. He spoke to me once of this Fionn mac Cuamhill, and while he told tales of the rest of their band, he said little about Fionn. Reminded me a bit of Hornigold, truthfully. [This is the first time in a long time that Edward's spoken Benjamin Hornigold's name, and judging from the way his expression sours, it's not a name he likes even hearing. If Waver knows anything about the Golden Age of Piracy, he might understand why.] So. I won't tell him, and break his heart in the telling. He deserved better than Fionn and he has you instead of Kayneth—he needs not know anything else.
[He kicks a pebble down the sidewalk, watches it bounce along before it falls between the cracks.]
But. I think we both know that it's not always in our hands. [He saw what happened in February too.] What will you do if he does find out, anyway?
That's no surprise to me. He hates talking about Fionn--it's not my place to speak for Diarmuid, but I know there's...a complicated mess of feelings involved.
[To say the least.]
If he does...then I'll do the obvious thing. Support him and try to get it through his head that anger and resentment aren't anything shameful. Hell, if I hadn't been a spiteful little shit as a kid, I never would have summoned him.
It sounds complicated to me, and I don't know much about the legend myself, beyond what he's told to me.
[Sure, he could look it up, but why would he? That's the kind of thing he would rather hear straight from Diarmuid and Waver.]
Anger and resentment and spite can do a lot of good. Hell, even if you just use it to further your own gain or get some revenge, it's better than letting it fester. But that I can see him doing. [Diarmuid's a noble knight right out of some bedtime story, and it turns out that's done a bit of a number on his emotional health.]
...let me know, if he does find out. I'll take him somewhere remote and spar with him. It'll help him get some anger and frustration out, and I'd like to see how he'd do up against a dirty ol' cheat like me.
Complicated and yet very straightforward in a way. It's a story about how a grudge can ruin everything you spend your life building if you're petty enough about it.
[Among other things.]
He's a good person--hell of a lot better than me. But that's because he's stricter about his code of conduct than I am. I recognize my faults and curse them as an inevitability of being human; but I think he curses having faults at all. A knight is an ideal, a shining archetype...but there's still an imperfect person behind that. Hell, even King Arthur had her problems and failings, and she's the absolute example of knightly chivalry.
...What I'm saying is, it's hard to internalize that one's allowed to be fallible, you know?
[There's a distance in his voice like he's thinking about grudges, and how they're just another form of obsession, and how obsessions can drag you far from the shore if you're not careful. He shakes his head a bit, and the distance is gone.]
Codes and creeds tend to make someone feel as though they belong to something bigger than themselves. And if that something is an ideal they hold themselves to...aye, hard to let it go when you fail to meet it.
[wait wait back up back up]
King Arthur's a what now. [A beat.] Bloody hell, is she like Mary?
...Yeah, you're right about that. I've fallen short of it a good few times myself, and it's hard to get back up afterwards. But it's not impossible. 'Good' doesn't mean 'perfect'.
[...Ah. Whoops, he'd slipped on that one.]
Mary Read, you mean? Something like that; legends in my world speak of her as a man, but it's hard to argue with reality. [he did not ask the pronouns of the Servant trying to kill him, so there are assumptions being made here.] Legends don't always match up perfectly with the truth, even in my world where the line's a little more blurry.
I've been reading so much on the Internet lately, I think I've read something along those lines before—"perfect is the enemy of good," is that how the motto goes? [He pauses. Then, absently:] I have one I'm still trying to puzzle out: "nothing is true, everything is permitted." If everything's permitted, you don't need to be perfect. You just need to be good enough.
...I ought to tell Diarmuid that motto, see what he makes of it.
[Don't ask him what nothing is true means because he's still trying to figure that out himself.]
Yes—oh, she'd hate being so well-known. [He misses her greatly. But he continues on:] If King Arthur's a woman but the legends speak of her as a man, there may be a reason why. I know Mary disguised herself to stay safe among us pirates and to make her own name as one. Perhaps Arthur thought a king's power was far more preferable to that of a queen's.
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Oh, no, let me treat you. You've had a time of it lately, haven't you? Let me relieve you of that burden this time, and the next time you can pay. [He pauses.] I tried this Italian restaurant a bit ago with a damn good lasagna. You just have to not look anyone in the eye too long.
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[Yes, he means this old-timey little bastard parked nearby is his. Yes, there are scratches on it now. Isn't Goodwill wonderful?]
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...You know, I think I can walk well enough today, I'm not in a hurry if you aren't.
['i want to live']
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Fair, then, we'll take the scenic route. [No parkour or leaps of faith today either. Edward just starts walking, as sure as ever of where he's going.]
Is this about you and Diarmuid, or Ritsuka?
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[He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, falling into step next to Edward.]
The former. He's fine, we're not arguing or anything stupid like that, but...some magic bullshit showed me something I don't think either of us was ever meant to know about.
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[Then he heaves just the biggest sigh.]
Was it the fish man in the park. He gave me a sandwich too.
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[He made a brief sound of disgust, scowling slightly.]
My predecessor...Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was a mage of incredible skill and talent. He was also a vile, arrogant, classist piece of shit--because he was a mage.
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I've heard of, stolen from, and killed men and women like that. Being vile, arrogant, classist pieces of absolute shite isn't exclusive to mages. [Edward ought to know, having been a poor farmer before he'd turned to privateering.] Did you—see something that involved him, then, when you ate of the fish?
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[good effort, though]
I know that, of course. The slight difference here is mages pride themselves on those qualities as a whole. But the thing is...Kayneth fought in the Holy Grail War the same as me, ten years ago. But a student he'd offended stole his original catalyst, so he had to replace it in a hurry. That meant he summoned a Berserker-class Servant named Lancelot.
[A deep breath.]
But what if he didn't? In another timeline, with any number of tiny changes, it wasn't Berserker he summoned...but Lancer.
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He starts again, catching up with Waver quickly enough, linking his fingers behind his neck, casual as ever.]
...let me guess. You were that student, and he'd wronged you in some manner. So you stole his relic, and so Lancer came to you, instead. But in another timeline—you didn't steal his relic for whatever reason, so he got to summon the Servant he wanted.
[Bile churns in his stomach at the thought of Diarmuid, someone he considers a friend, someone who trusts Edward with something so dangerous and so personal, in the hands of a man who sounds like he'd fit all too well into the Templars. Shit.]
Diarmuid didn't do well under his thumb, did he. [This is not a question more than it's simply Edward confirming a suspicion he has.]
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[That had to be the hinge, he'd reasoned. If another Waver was the Master of Rider, then how else would he have claimed a catalyst except to steal it?]
It's...funny. I remember thinking, all those years ago...what a narrow miss that was. I knew even then--Kayneth would have treated any Servant as no more than a weapon. And for someone like Diarmuid, who only wanted his Master's approval...that would have been a fate worse than death.
[He took another slow breath, eyes distant as he walked next to Edward.]
When we encountered him and Berserker, I broke my leg and couldn't fight back anymore. Kayneth gave me a choice: die then and there, or withdraw from the Holy Grail War. Thought it would look better, you know, to brush aside an insect than crush it. But for a Master and Servant to withdraw would entail using one's Command Seals...to order their Servant to commit suicide.
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...he did it to protect you?
[A beat, as he considers.]
Or, hell. Did he do something else, instead? Try and duel this Berserker?
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[His cane tapped against the ground with every step as usual; it still ached and always would, but that was fine. Scars were a mark of one's survival, and this one was the most important.]
I used that order to empower him to defeat Berserker in a single strike. I put my life in his hands, trusted that he would both finish things and save my life in the next second, or we would both die. Because to do anything else...would be unthinkable. Betraying someone who had already been betrayed like that in life was cruelty well worth dying to avoid. He cut down Lancelot and Kayneth both, and I woke up two days later with a ruined leg and a knight who looked at me like I was some kind of valiant hero myself--and it felt like a complete victory.
And I'm telling you all of this, Edward, because I think what I saw was the same kind of situation with exactly the opposite outcome.
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Because Kayneth wouldn't know how to trust someone he saw as a weapon, if he's anything like the Templars Edward's dealt with in the past. People like that tend to think other people think just like they do—everyone else is a pawn to be moved, or sheep to be corralled onto the narrow path. The sort of trust Waver speaks of requires something that they're not capable of doing: seeing someone else as a person.]
Kayneth wouldn't have thought twice about betraying him, if it meant it was to save his own arse from the fire. Am I getting that right?
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[There was no shame in those words; it was statement of fact and nothing more. Lord El-Melloi II was not Kayneth, but he was a mage all the same; for all the ugliness that entailed even alongside the desire to fix that broken system.]
...I saw him with another Master; an assassin I only know secondhand. It would have been no difficult thing for him to manipulate Kayneth into a similar situation. The next thing I knew-
[His voice caught briefly, Waver clearing his throat and trying to keep the distress off his face. When he spoke again, he gestured with his right hand--still carrying two remaining crimson seals on it.]
Diarmuid's spear was through his chest before he even realized what he was doing. That's the absolute compulsion of a Command Seal. I don't--I don't know what kind of bullshit he dealt with up to then, but he just snapped with the kind of anger I've never seen from him. Anger and abject misery, because he would have known it was the tragedy of his life as a mortal retreaded all over again.
'Let the Grail be cursed. Let the wish it grants bring disaster. And when you fall into the pits of hell, remember the rage of Diarmuid.'
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Edward keeps quiet, but the horror and anger on this alternate Diarmuid's behalf is written clear across his face.]
That rat bastard. [Haha wow lot of venom there, Edward.] Jesus, I'm sorry for that version of Diarmuid. He's bloody loyal, and I ain't ever seen someone with a heart sewn so obviously onto their sleeve. To be rewarded with the worst of betrayals...no wonder he cursed them so utterly.
[Kayneth it is on fuckin sight.]
Have you told him of what you've seen yet?
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[Someone who knew from experience that Waver would die for his Servant in an instant, and therefore understood just how severe an insult he found this whole thing. How painful it was, to know how close disaster could have been.]
He's already aware Kayneth summoned him in another timeline, but if he found out how badly it truly went, the kind of fury he was driven to...it would destroy him. Not knowing about that world does no material damage to either of us, so this is one secret I have to keep.
[He pushed dark hair out of his face and let out a slow breath, trying to keep himself relatively collected.]
Diarmuid was dealt an unfair hand a long, long time ago, and someone he swore loyalty to let him die because of it. But he still...won't let himself be angry about that, I think. Because that's conduct unbecoming of a knight.
I'm his Master, his partner--so I want to bear that anger on his behalf. At Fionn, at Kayneth, at so many miserable fucking circumstances outside of anyone's control.
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He'll not hear of it from me. He spoke to me once of this Fionn mac Cuamhill, and while he told tales of the rest of their band, he said little about Fionn. Reminded me a bit of Hornigold, truthfully. [This is the first time in a long time that Edward's spoken Benjamin Hornigold's name, and judging from the way his expression sours, it's not a name he likes even hearing. If Waver knows anything about the Golden Age of Piracy, he might understand why.] So. I won't tell him, and break his heart in the telling. He deserved better than Fionn and he has you instead of Kayneth—he needs not know anything else.
[He kicks a pebble down the sidewalk, watches it bounce along before it falls between the cracks.]
But. I think we both know that it's not always in our hands. [He saw what happened in February too.] What will you do if he does find out, anyway?
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[To say the least.]
If he does...then I'll do the obvious thing. Support him and try to get it through his head that anger and resentment aren't anything shameful. Hell, if I hadn't been a spiteful little shit as a kid, I never would have summoned him.
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[Sure, he could look it up, but why would he? That's the kind of thing he would rather hear straight from Diarmuid and Waver.]
Anger and resentment and spite can do a lot of good. Hell, even if you just use it to further your own gain or get some revenge, it's better than letting it fester. But that I can see him doing. [Diarmuid's a noble knight right out of some bedtime story, and it turns out that's done a bit of a number on his emotional health.]
...let me know, if he does find out. I'll take him somewhere remote and spar with him. It'll help him get some anger and frustration out, and I'd like to see how he'd do up against a dirty ol' cheat like me.
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[Among other things.]
He's a good person--hell of a lot better than me. But that's because he's stricter about his code of conduct than I am. I recognize my faults and curse them as an inevitability of being human; but I think he curses having faults at all. A knight is an ideal, a shining archetype...but there's still an imperfect person behind that. Hell, even King Arthur had her problems and failings, and she's the absolute example of knightly chivalry.
...What I'm saying is, it's hard to internalize that one's allowed to be fallible, you know?
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[There's a distance in his voice like he's thinking about grudges, and how they're just another form of obsession, and how obsessions can drag you far from the shore if you're not careful. He shakes his head a bit, and the distance is gone.]
Codes and creeds tend to make someone feel as though they belong to something bigger than themselves. And if that something is an ideal they hold themselves to...aye, hard to let it go when you fail to meet it.
[wait wait back up back up]
King Arthur's a what now. [A beat.] Bloody hell, is she like Mary?
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[...Ah. Whoops, he'd slipped on that one.]
Mary Read, you mean? Something like that; legends in my world speak of her as a man, but it's hard to argue with reality. [he did not ask the pronouns of the Servant trying to kill him, so there are assumptions being made here.] Legends don't always match up perfectly with the truth, even in my world where the line's a little more blurry.
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...I ought to tell Diarmuid that motto, see what he makes of it.
[Don't ask him what nothing is true means because he's still trying to figure that out himself.]
Yes—oh, she'd hate being so well-known. [He misses her greatly. But he continues on:] If King Arthur's a woman but the legends speak of her as a man, there may be a reason why. I know Mary disguised herself to stay safe among us pirates and to make her own name as one. Perhaps Arthur thought a king's power was far more preferable to that of a queen's.
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