Chaldea Bachelorette ch2 - Ritsuka x Everyone (Fate/Grand Order)
Side Ship: Hakuno x BB (and others)
21 Servants, 1 Master - through five lily ceremonies, group activities, and private dates, a new love will be born!
Welcome to Chaldea Bachelorette! (A show by BB ft. Hakuno)
※ With Reader Votings!
Reader-Interactive | Dating Show | Alternate Universe - Reality Show | Breaking the Fourth Wall | Meta Humor | Comedy | Fate/Extra Lore & References | References to author's other fics | Sometimes "The Writer's Barely Disguised Fetish" | Eventual Smut
Also posted on: AO3
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Ritsuka woke up to an awfully suspicious silence. No BB whose voice echoed throughout her mind, no Hakuno who greeted her awakening consciousness.
Not even the BB Channel music was playing.
Fearing the worst — and knowing this would probably not even cut it — Ritsuka got out of the bed provided to her in her private room that was supposedly completely and entirely safe.
Supposedly.
In BB’s words, it wouldn’t help with keeping up the tension and excitement if any candidate who wanted to could sneak into Ritsuka’s bed right at the start. Viewers would have to earn their ‘steamy reward’ by sticking around.
… Ritsuka wanted to wipe that from her mind.
A sheet of paper was put on her room’s door — confirming that, unlike participants, BB and Hakuno could access this room anytime. No surprise there.
—
Master, good morning!
Don’t lose any time, everyone’s waiting for you on the beach behind your mansion.
Put on your bikini and join the fun!
The BB Volleyball Tournament is waiting!
— BB ♥
—
Ritsuka’s eyebrow twitched. Volleyball sounded normal enough — fun even — but with a BB in front of it, that promised bad news. Nobody besides Hakuno could hope to guess what went on in that AI’s mind, so it was impossible to know ahead of time what bullshit would await.
Not that Ritsuka had any choice in this, so she changed into the Mystic Code she received for the first summer singularity — ‘Brilliant Summer,’ a bikini with white and orange stripes. It felt nostalgic in a sense.
Maybe, just maybe, there was some fun to be had. After all, summer events were usually not that bad.
… so Ritsuka hoped, against all odds, as she headed for the beach.
At the beach, Ritsuka was surprised to actually see BB and Hakuno present on what was practically a lifeguard stand. They actually showed up in person.
All the Servants were already present, mostly avoiding each other’s company in an awkward silence filled with tension. Everyone was only waiting for Ritsuka — the only one in a swimsuit. Was BB just pranking her?
In hindsight, it was stupid to follow instructions from some note BB left. How easy did Ritsuka make it for BB?
[Geez, Master. You really made everyone wait, huh? What, you think a ‘fashionably late’ entrance will make you seem more interesting or something?]
…
Ritsuka elected to ignore that attempt at picking a fight. Maybe BB would give up eventually if she never got a reaction — though Ritsuka knew this hope was futile. If BB were that easy to handle, she wouldn’t pose a problem to her sanity in the first place.
[Ehem. Now that everyone is here, it’s time to announce the first round’s Group Activity!]
<As you already know, today we’re holding the BB Volleyball Tournament, which you could sign up for yesterday from your own rooms.>
“… I couldn’t sign up, though?” Ritsuka pointed at herself in confusion.
<Well, Fujimaru, you are the bachelorette. This Group Activity is meant for others to show off their good sides to you, so you have to take the position of a referee and keep a close look.>
… that made sense. Annoyingly enough, it really did.
[All that noise aside! Let’s lose no more time and get the Bikini Beach Volleyball Tournament started!]
‘… what? That’s what the ‘BB’ stands for!?’
[You’re all given five minutes to change into swimsuits, else you’ll be disqualified! Hurry, hurry! Without fanservice, our viewers won’t be happy, you know?]
BB really forced everyone into dressing in bikinis to have a beach volleyball tournament, huh. That sounded almost normal. Suspiciously normal, in fact.
Apart from one crucial detail.
“What about the Servants who don’t have a swimsuit costume…?” Ritsuka asked.
Quite a few of them were present here, and BB wouldn’t disqualify them on the spot for that, right?
[Not to worry. With the help of supportive candidates willing to sabotage their hopeless love quest, we were able to provide swimsuits to the prudes who didn’t already have one of their own!]
That sounded so much worse than mere disqualification. Whoever donated swimsuits, unless it was someone decently trustworthy like Miss Crane — who wasn’t even here — it promised trouble.
Would this really be fine?
<While you are getting changed, I will explain the rules. First of all, on the court, the use of skills, magecraft, above-human prowess, and anything that falls into such categories is completely illegal. But don’t worry about this rule as the court was constructed to block all those things, so you’ll only have to adapt to relying on nothing but your personal, physical capabilities.>
Basically, none of the Servants could do anything that a human couldn’t. That at least made for a somewhat even playing field. If not for differences in height and strength, which could differ greatly, depending on who you’d pit against each other.
… really, was this going to be fine…?
<As for the teams, those were determined by… an algorithm of sorts.>
“By ‘algorithm’, you mean BB made up teams, don’t you?” Ritsuka asked.
Hakuno merely cleared her throat to neither confirm nor deny it.
[Of course I did! I had to ensure teams are balanced, each of them providing the right amount of potential for drama and tension! And most importantly, each team had to be eye candy with a certain minimum amount of sex appeal for the viewers. I can’t rely on participants or some random selection to do that. I still have a show to run here, you know? What if this gets cancelled before we reach the end? Want to get stuck in empty nothingness for the rest of your life? Ask Senpai how that feels! Though I wouldn’t mind dropping you there for a bit.]
BB went off on quite the tangent here… Ritsuka lacked some context and a particular level of insanity to follow the ramble fully, but she understood that BB had a field day with this tournament.
Which was bad news for everyone involved.
<The matchups were decided at random, though. We’ll be announcing the teams for the first match once everyone got changed. … please try to get along.>
That didn’t bode well; that addition at the end there already said it all.
A beach volleyball court popped up, with a few benches and chairs on each side of it. One in particular was meant for the referee, so Ritsuka took that seat which was meant for her.
With 21 candidates, not everyone was going to be able to take part. After all, beach volleyball was played with teams of two. At the very least, Ritsuka would have some company in the referee spot.
Some who were quick to change sat down on the other side of the court. None of the tension had left, but that only made sense — unlike Ritsuka, who merely had to watch and judge, the Servants had to play a sport by BB’s rules.
Ritsuka felt bad for them… even though they all signed up themselves. So they had it coming.
Once everyone was in swimsuits, BB got started right away. She didn’t want to lose any time. BB was enjoying herself way, way too much here.
[For the first match in the first round, we’ll have team ‘Worst Parenting Fail’ on the blue side, and team ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’ on the red side!]
“… team what now? What are those team names!?” Ritsuka exclaimed.
No surprise BB was so impatient to get started when she had such a humiliating trump up her sleeve.
<Artoria and Mordred, you’re in team ‘Worst Parenting Fail’. Morgan and Artoria Alter, ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’ is your team.>
Hakuno gave the teams a half-apologetic look, but she also had to hold back a chuckle. She hid it behind a fake cough.
It didn’t take half a second until Mordred was at the host duo’s lifeguard stand, kicking at the tower for the offence that was the team name. Artoria was able to take the insult in awkward silence, while Morgan and Artoria Alter paid their ridiculous team name no mind.
Ritsuka had to admit that the team names weren’t unfitting… though she valued her life enough not to say that out loud. She had a protagonist’s basic survival instinct, just like Hakuno — which really wasn’t much, but usually enough to make it through situations.
[I don’t want to be here all day, so we’re only playing a single round per match. The first team to get to 15 points wins. Winner team gets to spend the night with Master. Try your best, everyone!]
“… wait, what!?”
What did a private room that couldn’t be broken into even mean when this was the prize!?
As both teams warmed up on their respective sides, neither communicating with their partner in any way that wasn’t an icy glare — Morgan at Artoria Alter — or avoidance of eye contact — Mordred to Artoria, Ritsuka was approached by Medusa.
Ritsuka couldn’t remember seeing Medusa in a swimsuit before, but the simple black bikini with purple highlights suited her well. It had a refined, mature look in a subtle manner — fitting for Medusa.
“That swimsuit suits you.” Ritsuka voiced her unfiltered impression with a disarming smile.
“Thank you. I appreciate the compliment,” Medusa said.
[Whoa, look at Master raising a flag! Is a lily already about to bloom? Is she going to make this whole tournament and show of skills a waste of time!? Way to go, Master! Ruining everyone’s fun!]
Turned out BB was still capable of airing her commentary only directly into Ritsuka’s head, even when she was present personally. How annoying.
“Aren’t you going to play?”
“No. I’m not particularly good at such team sports… especially when the teams are assigned by someone else.”
“Ah, yeah…”
Although Medusa would certainly do better than at least half the players on the court, no doubt. There weren’t many Servants Medusa had a personal problem with after all, and none of those were present.
“This sport normally has line referees, doesn’t it? If you want, I can support you in that manner.”
Medusa put on a pair of glasses that she pulled out of nowhere, as though they would support her vision.
“In that case, I can take care of the other side’s line~”
Lady Avalon jumped into the conversation with a honey-laced offer that came right after she clung to Ritsuka’s arm. The white swimsuit was not a new sight, and Ritsuka didn’t pay the meddler any mind.
“Your little sister will do her best if she gets a little kiss as a reward~”
Ritsuka pulled her arm out of Lady Avalon’s embrace as some heat rushed to her cheeks. That woman was a succubus, all right. A ‘little kiss’ would be offering the finger that’ll get your whole arm ripped off, including the shoulder.
<That one is quite forward. Though it seems her approach failed. Maybe Fujimaru prefers girls who are more reluctant?>
[Eh, really? Well, that would explain her girlfriendlessness. Two bottoms are stuck never getting anywhere after all.]
A headache formed in Ritsuka’s temples, and she could only hope the match would start soon and get most of the attention.
Pulling Lady Avalon away from Ritsuka by the shoulder, earning a deliberately cutesy pout for it, Mashu cleared her throat.
“I’ll be your other line referee, Master,” she offered with a kind smile.
As expected from Mashu, who would always support Ritsuka to the best of her ability.
“Sure! I’d be happy to have you,” Ritsuka agreed, ignoring Lady Avalon’s whiney complaint in the back. “But aren’t you going to join? I would’ve thought…”
“I did sign up but was rejected immediately…” Mashu said with an apologetic smile as though it was her own fault.
“Huh? Why?”
“Notice from BB was, ‘Sorry, but I actually want this to be fun to watch. You provide not nearly enough drama or excitement. Go sit in the back like a good extra.’”
Ritsuka’s anger threatened to boil over. Why even let someone register for a tournament if you were going to reject applicants based on personal preference like that!?
[Don’t blame me. I could’ve put her on a team with that hedonistic dark succubus, but Senpai forbade me from doing that. It couldn’t be helped.]
<I thought you would appreciate those two keeping their distance — was I off?>
“… I guess it couldn’t be helped.” Ritsuka sighed. She should thank Hakuno for not letting BB put Lilith and Mashu in a team together. “In that case, I’ll rely on you.”
At least the line referees were reliable and to be trusted, unlike the rejected referee who put up a chair with a parasol in earshot — planning to watch the game with a cup of tea like the high-class lady she certainly was not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
— Round 1 | First Game: Worst Parenting Fail VS Coldest Lords of Edge —
To absolutely nobody’s surprise, the first match was a highly aggressive game of beach volleyball. If not for BB nerfing players to a reasonable human level, almost every single spike would’ve been a lethal weapon.
Neither team really communicated nor agreed on a particular strategy, but after the first few points were made, both had some type of teamwork figured out that worked for them.
Mordred managed receives that lacked the precision she should be capable of, as she avoided proper eye contact with Artoria — no way to make proper passes while refusing to exchange as little as a glance with your team partner.
Although Artoria had no such aggressive ambition that propelled her forward in the same sloppy manner, she still couldn’t fully make up for Mordred’s small errors in judgement.
She had a good pass figured out eventually, and Mordred hit every spike with zero hesitation — so hard that even without the calling of its name, her soul still clearly called out Clarent Blood Arthur.
While the forward (aggressive) display of strength was certainly impressive, Ritsuka knew that Mordred wasn’t in top condition. Neither was Artoria. She knew the two Sabers well enough to tell they could do better — should do better.
Leave it to BB to put together a team that hinders itself. That probably was intentional.
“That’s another point for…” Ritsuka sighed. “For ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’.”
It almost physically hurt to use those team names unironically.
The ball clearly went way too far, hitting the sand not even close to the glowing line drawn on the sand. It didn’t take a line referee to tell.
“Mordred,” Artoria finally said.
“I know, I know!” Mordred interrupted before Artoria could say anything else. “You’re gonna tell me not to compensate precision with strength, aren’t you? I know that!”
“… good then.”
Yeah, this team was hopeless. Entirely hopeless.
Ritsuka felt bad for them.
Artoria had to ‘get along’ with her child whose feelings for Artoria were… complicated was an understatement. Not that Artoria would’ve known how to deal with Mordred even if things were more simple.
And Mordred was stuck with the ‘father’ whom she loved, admired, despised, and hated all at the same time.
To top it off — which really showed BB’s sadism — their opponents were a dark version of Artoria paired with an unrelated look-alike of the mother who set Mordred on her path, and the sister who plotted Artoria’s downfall.
It didn’t help that the edgy team worked together a lot better, even though they were certainly more hostile towards each other. But that stayed subtle, exchanged in a cold war that didn’t hurt their performance.
After all, it wasn’t as though their feelings towards each other were any complicated; they simply didn’t get along. And refused to try and communicate, too.
In consequence, they had wordlessly split their half of the court into the left and right sides, and neither infringed on the other’s territory. The ball was received by whoever’s territory it fell into, passed with reliable precision, and spiked with the cold fire of someone who hated to lose.
Artoria Alter and Morgan were not related, but they were alike enough that this was easily forgotten. Especially with them sharing the same face.
The few balls they missed and the occasional spike that hit the net or a patch of sand way out of the court were granted no more than a click of the tongue. Neither Artoria Alter nor Morgan was the type to dwell on errors to beat herself up.
“Match point,” Ritsuka announced.
It was Morgan’s serve — a stroke of luck for team ‘Worst Parenting Fail’, as Morgan’s plays weren’t quite as powerful as Artoria Alter’s; easier to receive and turn into own plays. A witch who spent millennia taking care of problems from afar with magecraft didn’t make for a great sports player.
With how many ribbons were part of her white and gold swimsuit, it was surprising that Morgan could play beach volleyball and move around without getting tangled up in them anyway. The bikinis of Artoria, Mordred, and Artoria Alter were much simpler in design.
Really, Morgan was the only one on the court with a swimsuit that looked impressively beautiful and was clearly crafted to draw attention. Perhaps this was one of the times in which her more girlish side peeked through; a trait that the other three with the same face but less developed physique on the court didn’t share.
Mordred received the ball that came directly at her and immediately got into position to jump as high as the pesky sand would allow her to. Once the ball returned to her — passed from Artoria — Mordred put all her winning intent into her right hand, which hit the ball at the highest point—
Right into the net.
“Ahhh, damn it! Dammit all!” Mordred kicked sand in frustration.
Artoria wanted to tell Mordred that she did well, or that she could become a much better player if she trained, or… anything, really. But she had a feeling that no matter what she said, it would’ve added insult to injury. So she remained silent.
In a sad sense of irony, that was the wrongest call to make.
“Match won by ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’!” Ritsuka called out. “But all of you played really well. Especially considering the circumstances…”
[Oh? Is a certain dense Master who couldn’t get a girlfriend if she paid for it trying to take a jab at the show’s host? Shouldn’t you know who is and isn’t a good target to pick a fight with? I thought humans have at least some basic survival instincts.]
Naturally, this part was broadcasted normally, for everyone to hear.
<That aside, the first match has been decided! Congratulations, ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’! It was a good and fair game. Don’t worry, there is no punishment for losing. I’m sure Fujimaru got some new impressions through this game, too. So everyone is a winner in that sense.>
“I… I guess, yeah,” Ritsuka admitted, though she wasn’t entirely sure.
[I guess our horny Master was too busy ogling her Servants in swimsuits like a freaking pervert. Geez, maybe we should put you on a leash… As soon as there’s some skin in sight, you can’t focus anymore. What, are you in heat? Then again, humans are in heat throughout the whole year.]
“That’s not it!” Ritsuka had to try and save her reputation; not that any of the Servants believed BB.
… did they? The way Morgan averted her gaze for a second spoke another story, and Mordred crossing her arms in front of her chest had suspicious timing as well.
‘Ugh, come on! I’m not like that…’
“You can ogle me anytime~” Lady Avalon piped up from her fancy singular seat, but was promptly ignored.
The worst you could do with a succubus was feed them. They were practically trolls in that regard.
[Anyway, we’ll hold a short break before the next game. This is your time to flirt with the hopelessly doomed-to-be-forever-alone bachelorette or find someone better to throw yourself at! Have fun!]
BB had something coming once this singularity was over, Ritsuka would make sure of that.
— After The Match: Artoria, taking one L after another in her life and beyond —
“I don’t think I could have performed better. It is a shame to drop out in the very first round but… In that particular matchup, it would have been difficult to win. Even from a Lostbelt, Morgan is a terrifying opponent.”
[Man, she hardly seems bothered about having lost.]
<That’s a knight for you. They can take a loss with dignity. There’s a really handsome appeal in that, no?>
[… is that the type you like, Senpai?]
<Hm, maybe?>
—
Seeing Artoria and Mordred at the lifeguard stand was worrying, but there was nothing Ritsuka could do.
“You see that barrier around the stand, right?” Lady Avalon wrapped her arms around Ritsuka from behind. “Even I would have a hard time sneaking in.”
“Is that because of Mordred’s attack on them earlier?”
“Fufu, no. They wouldn’t invite her in if that were the case. I’d say they are recording some of those scenes where the candidates comment on events for the show, and they don’t want any disturbance.”
“Makes sense.” Ritsuka nodded. “… wait, they aren’t actually airing this anywhere, right?”
“Ahaha~”
Leaving only an aura of flowers behind, Lady Avalon was gone without more of a trace than lingering lily-like flowers, faster than she had appeared out of nowhere.
“… right!?” Ritsuka raised her voice, fearing the worst.
— After The Match: Mordred, sore loser with daddy issues —
“I don’t have anything to say. No, nothing! Next time I’ll win!”
[Guess her fumble got to her real bad, huh? You’d think such a rebel would at least break a nose or two with a good spike when all the other players on the court are either her parents or look-alikes of them.]
<… BB, you really went a bit far with this match. Is this some personal vendetta of yours?>
[Me, and a personal vendetta? Well, as a final boss, naturally I have someone I want to take my dramatic revenge on! But sadly, she’s not here. So I’m only doing what’s necessary for a good quota.]
<Why do I have a feeling that you’re sulking?>
[… just your imagination, Senpai~]
—
Not much time was left before the next game — at a distance from the court sat Artoria and Mordred as far away from each other as space would allow at tables and chairs newly set up with parasols.
Waitresses with a vague look served sugary, cold drinks and food to those who sat in this relaxation area that was decorated with a gigantic sign with lights in the brightest, most obnoxious colors that read “LOSER’S AREA”.
They could watch the upcoming matches from a distance and were treated well, but not without humiliation. As expected from BB’s craft.
Ritsuka didn’t even want to know what other team names BB came up with… but could it even get worse?
Petrichor: Frozen Rain Melting ch3 - Morgan x Castoria (Fate/Grand Order)
Content Warnings (whole fic): Non-Con・Major Character Death
Main Pairing (Series): Tonelico x Castoria
Part 2 of the Petrichor (Time Loop) series
Served to Morgan on a silver platter, Castoria expects this to mark the end of her journey before it has even begun. But it appears that the Winter Queen has different plans.
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Character Study | Time Loop | Very Hurt/Little Comfort | Trauma | Abuse | conflicted feelings | Mild (Passive) Suicidal Ideation | Past Abuse | Bonding Over Trauma | Kinda incest but not really | Pseudo-Incest | Castoria is 20 instead of 16 | MorCas (because AO3 won’t differentiate between Morgan and Tonelico) | Romance is More Subtextual (Probably)
Also posted on: AO3
Petrichor series: AO3
-> ★ ToneCas Agenda ★ Discord server <-
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03 - Wavering
Nothing on earth feels closer to heaven than a bed in the morning when you could doze back off any moment and have no intention of getting up just yet. Covered by the blanket you’ve snuggled yourself into in a subconscious longing to remain in this state.
Warm, safe. No problems arise, no flow of time is perceivable — peace.
Artoria can’t bring herself to part with this previously unknown taste of genuine bliss. She rouses, and turns; yet, this bed in the room that keeps her prisoner remains perfectly inviting. Like an embrace of kindness that only exists in dreams, not truly permitted in Fairy Britain.
It’s easy to ignore the sound of the door opening and closing; easy to pretend it to be a trick of Artoria’s imagination.
The soft clicking of heels on the tiled floor echoes through the room, slowly approaching the bed with each step. Artoria’s hand clutches the blanket, and she shuts her eyes tightly. The steps stop near the bed, not quite next to it.
A distanced approach, heels, and a lack of words — Morgan. Who else would move with such grace?
Who else would even visit Artoria?
‘Go away. Leave me alone.’
If she remains still, Artoria believes — hopes — that Morgan would assume her to be asleep still and leave.
Artoria doesn’t want to see anyone right now, or ever again. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Done with it all, and unwilling to face another fairy after pathetically bawling her eyes out before crying herself to sleep.
What a miserable Child of Prophecy she is. No matter how low the expectations, Artoria manages to disappoint them in an impressive manner. She has no doubt about that. But now she’s done with that, too.
Suddenly, the blanket is ripped from Artoria’s clutches, flying off to the foot of the bed, where it folds itself neatly.
“I am here to continue from yesterday,” Morgan says.
Whether Morgan has known Artoria to not actually be asleep or simply doesn’t care not to disturb her prisoner’s slumber — she’s not cutting Artoria any slack.
Annoyed at her layer of defense against the cold, cruel world being taken away without warning, Artoria grits her teeth and sits up to face Morgan. Her hand grips the sheet tightly to channel her bubbling-up anger.
Not even solitude is granted to Artoria when she wants it.
“What’s there to continue?” Artoria snarls.
“We have not reached a consensus about your pilgrimage and where your allegiance lies.”
Morgan crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking down on Artoria naturally due to her height. It makes her appear even more imposing — not that this is necessary — and Artoria’s first instinct is to cower and hide in the corner of the cage like a scared wild animal.
Her second instinct is to bite back — defiance for the sake of fighting back. As though it’s the final chance at escape from the clutches of certain demise; a miniscule chance that’s better than none.
Not that Artoria has any real intention to escape; but the lack of resolve is something her body is unaware of.
“… I told you I can’t,” Artoria repeats.
She wants to. Artoria wants nothing more than to be a normal girl, study magecraft, and feel the ease of a life not weighed down by burdens she never asked for.
And yet, she cannot abandon the hopes placed on her. Like a curse — an accumulation of curses — Artoria feels bound to following the path laid out for her. Even though she will surely fail, even though she’s already failed… she cannot abandon this hope.
Artoria cannot let everyone down. Her heart refuses to.
“You can,” Morgan disagrees, as though she is merely explaining possibilities that don’t seem to register for Artoria. “I, too, am a Fairy of Paradise. We may abandon our purpose without losing our self.”
‘… huh? What?’
Morgan being a Fairy of Paradise is news; this isn’t something Artoria had expected.
… it’s not something anyone would believe just being told, something much too outrageous to be taken at face value. Nothing but a delusional joke, with how big the gap between Morgan and Artoria is in just about every way — prowess, confidence, magecraft, height.
Maybe, if one were to squint, their faces could look the slightest bit alike.
“Are you… really?”
Was Morgan as weak as Artoria once? Was she hated, too? Did she have all the expectations of everyone else placed on her back? Did she want to run away to a normal life as well?
Did Morgan ever want to give up…? Did she feel crushed by her fate as though she’s stuck underneath boulders, a new one dropping on the pile every single day, knocking the final breath out of her collapsing lungs?
That— No, it’s simply impossible to imagine. Someone like Morgan could never know such struggles.
“There is no sense in doubting my words when you can see that I am not telling a lie.”
“… right.”
Not even Morgan could lie past Fairy Eyes; nobody is exempt from this curse of seeing through falsehoods. Morgan is telling the truth, Artoria knows that. She knows, and yet…
That doesn’t make it any easier to believe.
“The fairies have no need for a savior. That will do this country no good,” Morgan says coldly, like a queen who’s long since given up on her own people. Perhaps she has. “You will suffer for their selfish whims until they turn on you… if they haven’t already.”
“… what do you know,” Artoria mumbles, looking away.
Turning on Artoria? Is this what’s awaiting her, even if she completes the pilgrimage? Is Artoria the next enemy for fairykind — the next Morgan?
That’s a joke, a bad one at that. How does that differ from Artoria’s life until now?
You cannot turn on someone you’ve always been against from the very start, and it’s impossible to backstab someone if you’ve been ramming knives into their soul from day one.
‘… what bullshit…’
It’s no surprise that the fairies’ opinion won’t change for the better even if Artoria were the perfect Child of Prophecy, fulfilling all the expectations without flaw. Not that she could.
But even in that hypothetical scenario — she won’t be forgiven, and the hatred directed at her won’t leave. It’ll be shown more openly, if anything.
“You are truly… hardheaded.” A conscious effort not to offend by voicing a more genuine impression. “I believe we are done for today.”
‘For forever,’ Artoria adds mentally.
Morgan leaves without uttering a single other word. Tension dissipates from Artoria’s body, and she releases a stuttering breath that feels as though it carries all the wracked nerves with it.
Once more, Morgan hasn’t killed Artoria. Hasn’t hurt her even.
Artoria brushes her hand over the sheets, feeling the soft fabric. It’s different from hay — more comfortable, not a single blade poking her as she lies on it. It doesn’t feel like Artoria belongs.
Although unsure of how steady her limbs are today, Artoria shuffles to the edge of the bed and gets up from it. Her legs feel sore, but stable enough to support her weight today. However many hours she’s rested, it has really allowed her to properly recuperate.
She only passes a glance at the door through which Morgan left, not even considering to open it. Behind it are the halls of Camelot, and that’s no place Artoria wishes to explore, regardless of whether she could.
Artoria is all too familiar with this treatment, being bound to one particular place. If she’d ever been able to consider escape at some point in her life, it has been Tintagel that has thoroughly wiped that option from her mind. Even now, that remains unchanged; inhibition reaching as far as her subconscious to prevent any spark that could turn into an idea of flight.
This arrangement is simply accepted, just like the barn. Day after day, Artoria will make it through somehow.
In the bathroom, Artoria finds what she’s only heard of before — a bathtub. It appears big enough for her whole body to sink into the water if filled. Artoria’s hand traces the tub’s edge, wondering how a bath would feel.
She knows bathtubs supposedly have warm water, hot even. Not that Artoria ever has been in one; that’s a luxury not permitted for a simple village girl hated by everyone.
But she doesn’t know how to work those handles, and doesn’t dare to try, lest Artoria could break something.
When she gets up from her crouching position, her eyes meet her reflection’s on the wall.
“… a mirror…” Another object she only has limited experience with.
Artoria’s expression morphs into a frown at the sight of herself, after which she immediately looks away from this cursed reflection.
Disheveled hair that’s almost never been properly combed and brushed, chapped lips. Her eyes are bloodshot. Not that that’s a surprise, when the day before she’s cried enough to make up for almost 20 years of being unable to shed a single tear.
Emotions pile up inside one’s heart, ready to burst but unable to release — once that valve opens, there’s no stopping the overflowing feelings.
Artoria clenches her fist, her nails digging into the skin of her palm as these memories make her want to cry at her own embarrassing, sheer incompetence again.
After taking three steps back, Artoria’s back meets the cold tiles of the wall behind her. She slides down to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she sits on the cold bathroom floor.
She looks pathetic and abandoned — seeing it for herself hit like a sucker punch aimed straight at a sore bruise; Artoria doesn’t want to see her face ever again. It’s better she doesn’t. Pain is easier to ignore when one remains blissfully ignorant of the scars that remain.
‘I hate all of this…’
Artoria knows how miserable she is — stooped so much lower than she’d ever thought possible, displaying weakness she always knew better than to show — and how this doesn’t suit her at all. Where’s that smile she flashed whenever anything went wrong?
But in truth, this is Artoria, and always has been. Pitiful, a worthless good-for-nothing who can’t even believe in herself. Who wants to hide away and do nothing, too afraid to do anything wrong. Too sure she can’t do anything right.
She flinches when she hears the other door open, but this time, the steps are heavy. No grace in them, only a lot of weight and an annoying confidence that makes Artoria stick out her tongue in disgust.
Barghest.
Doesn’t that Fairy Knight have anything better to do than disturb Artoria’s wallowing in her own misery?
“Child of Prophecy,” Barghest addresses Artoria, all formal and serious. Somehow that’s even more annoying. “I have brought a change of clothes. I assume you are in the bath, so I will place it on the bed.”
Normally, Artoria would at least mutter a ‘thanks’… but when it comes to Barghest, that would feel like admitting defeat.
“All right,” Artoria says.
“Her Majesty has ordered me to prepare a meal for you. I’m not familiar with your preferences and intolerances, so I would appreciate some pointers.”
Artoria doesn’t want to accept food if it’s from Barghest. She really, really doesn’t. But her stomach feels like a black hole about to suck itself in at the mere mention of food. How long has it been since she’s last eaten…?
Her mouth waters at the thought of a meal.
“Anything’s fine,” Artoria mutters in defeat which she won’t forgive herself for. “But I want a big portion.”
At least this bit of defiance is necessary — a small hint of rebellion by asking for something that would cause extra effort.
If Barghest wants to play maid so badly, Artoria will humor her.
“Understood. I will return once I have finished preparations.”
Barghest leaves again, after which Artoria peeks into the room that serves as her prison. A stack of neatly folded clothes is on her bed, apparently left to herself to put into the dresser.
Artoria sighs. She can’t hide in this bathroom forever, can she? Not even hiding under the blanket worked.
“Why Bageko of all things?” Artoria mutters in annoyance.
The mind is beautifully capable of keeping itself from breaking down — focusing on one minor inconvenience, any little indignation, so it can block out the thoughts that would otherwise spiral and cause harm to itself.
Nobody and nothing can resist a convenient scapegoat, if only to stay sane.
Artoria drags her feet back to the bed, inspecting the spare clothes she’s been brought. None of them seem overly fancy or special; plain dresses of varying cuts. Some are white, most come in different shades of blue.
Underwear is stacked on top of the dresses, and the sight of it heats up Artoria’s cheeks. Someone has to have picked them for her, and probably imagined her wearing them.
Barghest, at the very least, has seen them, and would know Artoria’s underwear if she puts on any of them.
“Ah, screw this…!!”
Artoria grabs the panties and flings them against the wall without thinking, anything to get them out of her sight. The fabric has felt stupidly silky and nice, too.
Everything in Camelot is fancy and luxurious, especially compared to Artoria’s previous life.
This is practically mockery. Flaunting all this extravagance, which a common village girl wouldn’t even dare to dream of, like it’s the most natural, everyday thing to have available.
With a scoff at this utter gaudiness, Artoria takes the dresses and brings them to the dresser. She pulls out two drawers and throws in the clothes, not caring to keep them as neatly folded as they are.
Nothing else can suffer the wrath of her helplessness, so these pieces of clothing must do.
Once the drawers are slammed shut, Artoria releases a deep breath.
‘This sucks.’
She doesn’t understand why, but Artoria feels worse here than she’s ever done in Tintagel. Despite being surrounded by comfort and all the free time in the world, her life has narrowed down to this small point of existence.
Working one’s bones off is one thing when there’s some kind of freedom waiting around the corner someday — but once you’ve reached a dead end, no matter how big the space, it’ll feel suffocating.
No path leaves no goal, and nothing to aim for.
When the tunnel has no end, there’s no light waiting anywhere either — only more darkness, more humid cold that seeps to your bones.
How long would Artoria be able to stay in Camelot? Not that Morgan would let her go; that doesn’t seem probable. But Artoria has no idea what Morgan wants from her either.
‘No point in thinking about that…’
Artoria doesn’t understand Morgan. If she’s being honest, Artoria has to admit that she’s never truly understood anyone. Not even Fairy Eyes are a shortcut to understanding another; if anything, they make it more difficult.
Maybe Artoria doesn’t even really understand herself either. No way she could understand anyone else then.
Before she can follow that train of thought further, it halts when Barghest returns pushing a service cart in front of her. It looks laughable to see the oversized, bulky Barghest hunch over to push this too-small cart.
It serves that haughty fairy knight just right. Maybe it’ll add a pain in the back to that pain in the neck it apparently is to talk to someone much shorter who’s actually a normal height.
If only this petty grudge were a weapon, Artoria would be capable of taking on any enemy — including Morgan.
Like the perfectly chivalrous knight she irritatingly is, Barghest picks up a lone chair from one side of the room and places it in front of the service cart for Artoria to take a seat.
Deciding to act like she’s the superior one, Artoria stalks over and sits down on the chair, after which Barghest pushes the chair closer to the service cart that would function as a table, closing the distance.
‘… somehow this feels like she’s looking down on me…’
Physically, Barghest can’t help but look down on Artoria; the height difference leaves no room for an even eye level between the two. This is bad enough on its own, but when this extends to the mental side, Barghest clearly looks down on Artoria in every way.
Someday, Artoria will take Barghest down a peg for that.
“Please, enjoy your meal,” Barghest says, oblivious to the petty feelings directed at her.
“I’ll try,” Artoria mutters.
She doesn’t want to indulge Barghest like that. Despite what her begging stomach is praying for, Artoria hopes the food is practically inedible. If only because she could chew out Barghest for that.
But it doesn’t even look bad… not at all. In fact, this meal looks seriously high class. If Artoria had any table manners, she’d feel bad about eating such a grandiose meal in the first place.
Instead, she grabs the fork and digs in — the knife stays abandoned on the other side of the plate. Back in Tintagel, Artoria has rarely used cutlery to begin with, and she’s never had the opportunity to eat with a knife and fork. She’s good with her hands, and can manage with a fork.
Barghest stops herself from clearing her throat at the lack of manners, realizing that she shouldn’t expect too much from a fairy who lacks any proper education in etiquette or otherwise.
The harsh life is evident in all the small signs — blisters on Artoria’s hands speak of days of physical labor, missing toes she consciously tries to hide speak of hardships uncommon even for a poor village girl.
And the eyes — reddened from what must have been a harsh night, yet the warm emerald has never dulled. A glimmer of hope, and a strong determination shine in those eyes.
It’s a strength that Barghest can appreciate, even if it may not amount to much.
Artoria’s mouth waters even more after the first few bites than it had earlier when she’s only thought of food. Meat that’s so tender that it practically melts on her tongue, leaving a rich, savory taste behind, that makes Artoria wish it’d be all her taste buds would remember.
The side dishes complement this rich taste beautifully — vegetables adding a fresh note, and mashed potatoes so fluffy and soft, it’s like enjoying a cloud seasoned with the finest herbs and a pinch of salt.
Not even Artoria can deny that Barghest is a splendid cook. In fact, this almost makes up for all her flaws in personality and appearance. Almost.
No, not even close.
Once Artoria is done wolfing down the food, as though she has no appreciation for finer cuisine — when she’s enjoyed the meal more than anyone else could have — she can’t help but wish for seconds.
Not that she’d let Barghest know this. That’s a victory Artoria won’t grant her.
Begrudgingly, Artoria has to accept that Barghest has won this round in a battle Barghest doesn’t even know is happening between the two.
“A healthy appetite,” Barghest comments, biting her tongue when it comes to her thoughts about Artoria’s lack of grace. “As a cook, I take this as a compliment.”
‘Tch, there she goes, being cocky as usual… Damn you, Bageko…’
“It was all right,” Artoria concedes.
It wouldn’t kill her to simply admit how good the food tasted, but Artoria isn’t willing to take that risk regardless. If nothing else, it would sour the aftertaste too much. Maybe if there were a dessert waiting…
But no, Artoria shakes that idea out of her head. She’s growing way too cozy with Barghest, and with being in Camelot. Morgan, that cunning queen…!
“I will increase the size of the portion for tomorrow,” Barghest decides, even though Artoria hasn’t asked for it.
“… don’t you have anything better to do than playing cook?”
“I do not have a current mission, if that is what you mean,” Barghest says. “Her Majesty sent me to capture the Child of Prophecy that was said to be sheltered in Tintagel.”
“You’ve already done that, though,” Artoria voices her bitter reminder to Barghest.
A subtle, implicated way to tell Barghest she’s unwanted here. Not that she takes a hint. Dense like a rock with a body like a boulder.
“Yes, and I was planning to return to Manchester until I would be needed by Her Majesty’s side again. However, I was now tasked with seeing to your culinary well-being, Child of Prophecy.”
Great. Just freaking great, of all the Fairy Knights available, Morgan assigned Barghest as the babysitter. Artoria wants to throw up her own disgust.
“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” Artoria mutters. Barghest is confused by the remark, prompting Artoria to continue. “Why capture me? Morgan had all the other fairies suspected to be the Child of Prophecy killed immediately.”
“That is true,” Barghest agrees. “I do not know her reasons. That is of no concern to me. When she received word of the Child of Prophecy named Artoria in Tintagel, she changed her order to capture you alive and bring you here.”
Artoria scoffs. Barghest hasn’t even thought to ask about such a strange, out of nowhere change of command?
“You sure trust Morgan, huh.”
“Of course I do. You may not know this, Child of Prophecy, but Her Majesty is my savior.”
Artoria wants to laugh at that line — Morgan, who herself has told Artoria that fairies need no savior, and would turn on one if they had them? That Morgan being called by the title of the savior from ages ago, Tonelico? Ridiculous.
“And not only me — Her Majesty keeps the Moss and calamities at bay. I know no other fairy capable of such a feat, and no other fairy who would take on these responsibilities.”
“… I guess that’s true,” Artoria agrees.
Nobody but Morgan would be stupid enough to do so much for those who utterly hate and despise her, to the point of pushing a village girl to become the hand that kills the evil queen terrorizing Fairy Britain with her iron rule.
A selfish fool of a queen, for an egoistical land that relies on a prophecy to free them from their turmoil.
“You could not take her place. Not on the throne, not for this land,” Barghest reminds Artoria, though she doesn’t need to. Artoria is well aware of that without being told. “There is no point in going up against Her Majesty.”
Artoria doesn’t deem that worthy of a remark — rather, she doesn’t have anything to say.
Barghest finally takes a hint and leaves, taking the service cart along with her, and placing the chair back against a wall as to not be a bother in this empty room with a single inhabitant who’s never chosen to be here.
Alone and in peace, Artoria flops down on the bed, facing the ceiling.
“No point, huh?” Artoria repeats Barghest’s words with a bitter smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me that, Bageko…”
A stupidly loyal knight to a cold-hearted queen. And all Artoria has are fairies disappointed in her… and Ector who might be the slightest bit worried about her, or he just enjoys the peace and quiet now that nobody’s bothering him in his solitude anymore. She wouldn’t know — doesn’t want to know.
Chaldea Bachelorette ch2 - Ritsuka x Everyone (Fate/Grand Order)
Side Ship: Hakuno x BB (and others)
21 Servants, 1 Master - through five lily ceremonies, group activities, and private dates, a new love will be born!
Welcome to Chaldea Bachelorette! (A show by BB ft. Hakuno)
※ With Reader Votings!
Reader-Interactive | Dating Show | Alternate Universe - Reality Show | Breaking the Fourth Wall | Meta Humor | Comedy | Fate/Extra Lore & References | References to author's other fics | Sometimes "The Writer's Barely Disguised Fetish" | Eventual Smut
Also posted on: AO3
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▶︎ Lily Poll - vote for your favorite candidate(s) to receive a lily and move into the next round!
▶︎ Date Poll - vote for your favorite candidate(s) to get a date with Ritsuka in this round!
▶︎ Side Ship Poll - vote for your favorite side ship(s) to be featured!
Ritsuka woke up to an awfully suspicious silence. No BB whose voice echoed throughout her mind, no Hakuno who greeted her awakening consciousness.
Not even the BB Channel music was playing.
Fearing the worst — and knowing this would probably not even cut it — Ritsuka got out of the bed provided to her in her private room that was supposedly completely and entirely safe.
Supposedly.
In BB’s words, it wouldn’t help with keeping up the tension and excitement if any candidate who wanted to could sneak into Ritsuka’s bed right at the start. Viewers would have to earn their ‘steamy reward’ by sticking around.
… Ritsuka wanted to wipe that from her mind.
A sheet of paper was put on her room’s door — confirming that, unlike participants, BB and Hakuno could access this room anytime. No surprise there.
—
Master, good morning!
Don’t lose any time, everyone’s waiting for you on the beach behind your mansion.
Put on your bikini and join the fun!
The BB Volleyball Tournament is waiting!
— BB ♥
—
Ritsuka’s eyebrow twitched. Volleyball sounded normal enough — fun even — but with a BB in front of it, that promised bad news. Nobody besides Hakuno could hope to guess what went on in that AI’s mind, so it was impossible to know ahead of time what bullshit would await.
Not that Ritsuka had any choice in this, so she changed into the Mystic Code she received for the first summer singularity — ‘Brilliant Summer,’ a bikini with white and orange stripes. It felt nostalgic in a sense.
Maybe, just maybe, there was some fun to be had. After all, summer events were usually not that bad.
… so Ritsuka hoped, against all odds, as she headed for the beach.
At the beach, Ritsuka was surprised to actually see BB and Hakuno present on what was practically a lifeguard stand. They actually showed up in person.
All the Servants were already present, mostly avoiding each other’s company in an awkward silence filled with tension. Everyone was only waiting for Ritsuka — the only one in a swimsuit. Was BB just pranking her?
In hindsight, it was stupid to follow instructions from some note BB left. How easy did Ritsuka make it for BB?
[Geez, Master. You really made everyone wait, huh? What, you think a ‘fashionably late’ entrance will make you seem more interesting or something?]
…
Ritsuka elected to ignore that attempt at picking a fight. Maybe BB would give up eventually if she never got a reaction — though Ritsuka knew this hope was futile. If BB were that easy to handle, she wouldn’t pose a problem to her sanity in the first place.
[Ehem. Now that everyone is here, it’s time to announce the first round’s Group Activity!]
<As you already know, today we’re holding the BB Volleyball Tournament, which you could sign up for yesterday from your own rooms.>
“… I couldn’t sign up, though?” Ritsuka pointed at herself in confusion.
<Well, Fujimaru, you are the bachelorette. This Group Activity is meant for others to show off their good sides to you, so you have to take the position of a referee and keep a close look.>
… that made sense. Annoyingly enough, it really did.
[All that noise aside! Let’s lose no more time and get the Bikini Beach Volleyball Tournament started!]
‘… what? That’s what the ‘BB’ stands for!?’
[You’re all given five minutes to change into swimsuits, else you’ll be disqualified! Hurry, hurry! Without fanservice, our viewers won’t be happy, you know?]
BB really forced everyone into dressing in bikinis to have a beach volleyball tournament, huh. That sounded almost normal. Suspiciously normal, in fact.
Apart from one crucial detail.
“What about the Servants who don’t have a swimsuit costume…?” Ritsuka asked.
Quite a few of them were present here, and BB wouldn’t disqualify them on the spot for that, right?
[Not to worry. With the help of supportive candidates willing to sabotage their hopeless love quest, we were able to provide swimsuits to the prudes who didn’t already have one of their own!]
That sounded so much worse than mere disqualification. Whoever donated swimsuits, unless it was someone decently trustworthy like Miss Crane — who wasn’t even here — it promised trouble.
Would this really be fine?
<While you are getting changed, I will explain the rules. First of all, on the court, the use of skills, magecraft, above-human prowess, and anything that falls into such categories is completely illegal. But don’t worry about this rule as the court was constructed to block all those things, so you’ll only have to adapt to relying on nothing but your personal, physical capabilities.>
Basically, none of the Servants could do anything that a human couldn’t. That at least made for a somewhat even playing field. If not for differences in height and strength, which could differ greatly, depending on who you’d pit against each other.
… really, was this going to be fine…?
<As for the teams, those were determined by… an algorithm of sorts.>
“By ‘algorithm’, you mean BB made up teams, don’t you?” Ritsuka asked.
Hakuno merely cleared her throat to neither confirm nor deny it.
[Of course I did! I had to ensure teams are balanced, each of them providing the right amount of potential for drama and tension! And most importantly, each team had to be eye candy with a certain minimum amount of sex appeal for the viewers. I can’t rely on participants or some random selection to do that. I still have a show to run here, you know? What if this gets cancelled before we reach the end? Want to get stuck in empty nothingness for the rest of your life? Ask Senpai how that feels! Though I wouldn’t mind dropping you there for a bit.]
BB went off on quite the tangent here… Ritsuka lacked some context and a particular level of insanity to follow the ramble fully, but she understood that BB had a field day with this tournament.
Which was bad news for everyone involved.
<The matchups were decided at random, though. We’ll be announcing the teams for the first match once everyone got changed. … please try to get along.>
That didn’t bode well; that addition at the end there already said it all.
A beach volleyball court popped up, with a few benches and chairs on each side of it. One in particular was meant for the referee, so Ritsuka took that seat which was meant for her.
With 21 candidates, not everyone was going to be able to take part. After all, beach volleyball was played with teams of two. At the very least, Ritsuka would have some company in the referee spot.
Some who were quick to change sat down on the other side of the court. None of the tension had left, but that only made sense — unlike Ritsuka, who merely had to watch and judge, the Servants had to play a sport by BB’s rules.
Ritsuka felt bad for them… even though they all signed up themselves. So they had it coming.
Once everyone was in swimsuits, BB got started right away. She didn’t want to lose any time. BB was enjoying herself way, way too much here.
[For the first match in the first round, we’ll have team ‘Worst Parenting Fail’ on the blue side, and team ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’ on the red side!]
“… team what now? What are those team names!?” Ritsuka exclaimed.
No surprise BB was so impatient to get started when she had such a humiliating trump up her sleeve.
<Artoria and Mordred, you’re in team ‘Worst Parenting Fail’. Morgan and Artoria Alter, ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’ is your team.>
Hakuno gave the teams a half-apologetic look, but she also had to hold back a chuckle. She hid it behind a fake cough.
It didn’t take half a second until Mordred was at the host duo’s lifeguard stand, kicking at the tower for the offence that was the team name. Artoria was able to take the insult in awkward silence, while Morgan and Artoria Alter paid their ridiculous team name no mind.
Ritsuka had to admit that the team names weren’t unfitting… though she valued her life enough not to say that out loud. She had a protagonist’s basic survival instinct, just like Hakuno — which really wasn’t much, but usually enough to make it through situations.
[I don’t want to be here all day, so we’re only playing a single round per match. The first team to get to 15 points wins. Winner team gets to spend the night with Master. Try your best, everyone!]
“… wait, what!?”
What did a private room that couldn’t be broken into even mean when this was the prize!?
As both teams warmed up on their respective sides, neither communicating with their partner in any way that wasn’t an icy glare — Morgan at Artoria Alter — or avoidance of eye contact — Mordred to Artoria, Ritsuka was approached by Medusa.
Ritsuka couldn’t remember seeing Medusa in a swimsuit before, but the simple black bikini with purple highlights suited her well. It had a refined, mature look in a subtle manner — fitting for Medusa.
“That swimsuit suits you.” Ritsuka voiced her unfiltered impression with a disarming smile.
“Thank you. I appreciate the compliment,” Medusa said.
[Whoa, look at Master raising a flag! Is a lily already about to bloom? Is she going to make this whole tournament and show of skills a waste of time!? Way to go, Master! Ruining everyone’s fun!]
Turned out BB was still capable of airing her commentary only directly into Ritsuka’s head, even when she was present personally. How annoying.
“Aren’t you going to play?”
“No. I’m not particularly good at such team sports… especially when the teams are assigned by someone else.”
“Ah, yeah…”
Although Medusa would certainly do better than at least half the players on the court, no doubt. There weren’t many Servants Medusa had a personal problem with after all, and none of those were present.
“This sport normally has line referees, doesn’t it? If you want, I can support you in that manner.”
Medusa put on a pair of glasses that she pulled out of nowhere, as though they would support her vision.
“In that case, I can take care of the other side’s line~”
Lady Avalon jumped into the conversation with a honey-laced offer that came right after she clung to Ritsuka’s arm. The white swimsuit was not a new sight, and Ritsuka didn’t pay the meddler any mind.
“Your little sister will do her best if she gets a little kiss as a reward~”
Ritsuka pulled her arm out of Lady Avalon’s embrace as some heat rushed to her cheeks. That woman was a succubus, all right. A ‘little kiss’ would be offering the finger that’ll get your whole arm ripped off, including the shoulder.
<That one is quite forward. Though it seems her approach failed. Maybe Fujimaru prefers girls who are more reluctant?>
[Eh, really? Well, that would explain her girlfriendlessness. Two bottoms are stuck never getting anywhere after all.]
A headache formed in Ritsuka’s temples, and she could only hope the match would start soon and get most of the attention.
Pulling Lady Avalon away from Ritsuka by the shoulder, earning a deliberately cutesy pout for it, Mashu cleared her throat.
“I’ll be your other line referee, Master,” she offered with a kind smile.
As expected from Mashu, who would always support Ritsuka to the best of her ability.
“Sure! I’d be happy to have you,” Ritsuka agreed, ignoring Lady Avalon’s whiney complaint in the back. “But aren’t you going to join? I would’ve thought…”
“I did sign up but was rejected immediately…” Mashu said with an apologetic smile as though it was her own fault.
“Huh? Why?”
“Notice from BB was, ‘Sorry, but I actually want this to be fun to watch. You provide not nearly enough drama or excitement. Go sit in the back like a good extra.’”
Ritsuka’s anger threatened to boil over. Why even let someone register for a tournament if you were going to reject applicants based on personal preference like that!?
[Don’t blame me. I could’ve put her on a team with that hedonistic dark succubus, but Senpai forbade me from doing that. It couldn’t be helped.]
<I thought you would appreciate those two keeping their distance — was I off?>
“… I guess it couldn’t be helped.” Ritsuka sighed. She should thank Hakuno for not letting BB put Lilith and Mashu in a team together. “In that case, I’ll rely on you.”
At least the line referees were reliable and to be trusted, unlike the rejected referee who put up a chair with a parasol in earshot — planning to watch the game with a cup of tea like the high-class lady she certainly was not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
— Round 1 | First Game: Worst Parenting Fail VS Coldest Lords of Edge —
To absolutely nobody’s surprise, the first match was a highly aggressive game of beach volleyball. If not for BB nerfing players to a reasonable human level, almost every single spike would’ve been a lethal weapon.
Neither team really communicated nor agreed on a particular strategy, but after the first few points were made, both had some type of teamwork figured out that worked for them.
Mordred managed receives that lacked the precision she should be capable of, as she avoided proper eye contact with Artoria — no way to make proper passes while refusing to exchange as little as a glance with your team partner.
Although Artoria had no such aggressive ambition that propelled her forward in the same sloppy manner, she still couldn’t fully make up for Mordred’s small errors in judgement.
She had a good pass figured out eventually, and Mordred hit every spike with zero hesitation — so hard that even without the calling of its name, her soul still clearly called out Clarent Blood Arthur.
While the forward (aggressive) display of strength was certainly impressive, Ritsuka knew that Mordred wasn’t in top condition. Neither was Artoria. She knew the two Sabers well enough to tell they could do better — should do better.
Leave it to BB to put together a team that hinders itself. That probably was intentional.
“That’s another point for…” Ritsuka sighed. “For ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’.”
It almost physically hurt to use those team names unironically.
The ball clearly went way too far, hitting the sand not even close to the glowing line drawn on the sand. It didn’t take a line referee to tell.
“Mordred,” Artoria finally said.
“I know, I know!” Mordred interrupted before Artoria could say anything else. “You’re gonna tell me not to compensate precision with strength, aren’t you? I know that!”
“… good then.”
Yeah, this team was hopeless. Entirely hopeless.
Ritsuka felt bad for them.
Artoria had to ‘get along’ with her child whose feelings for Artoria were… complicated was an understatement. Not that Artoria would’ve known how to deal with Mordred even if things were more simple.
And Mordred was stuck with the ‘father’ whom she loved, admired, despised, and hated all at the same time.
To top it off — which really showed BB’s sadism — their opponents were a dark version of Artoria paired with an unrelated look-alike of the mother who set Mordred on her path, and the sister who plotted Artoria’s downfall.
It didn’t help that the edgy team worked together a lot better, even though they were certainly more hostile towards each other. But that stayed subtle, exchanged in a cold war that didn’t hurt their performance.
After all, it wasn’t as though their feelings towards each other were any complicated; they simply didn’t get along. And refused to try and communicate, too.
In consequence, they had wordlessly split their half of the court into the left and right sides, and neither infringed on the other’s territory. The ball was received by whoever’s territory it fell into, passed with reliable precision, and spiked with the cold fire of someone who hated to lose.
Artoria Alter and Morgan were not related, but they were alike enough that this was easily forgotten. Especially with them sharing the same face.
The few balls they missed and the occasional spike that hit the net or a patch of sand way out of the court were granted no more than a click of the tongue. Neither Artoria Alter nor Morgan was the type to dwell on errors to beat herself up.
“Match point,” Ritsuka announced.
It was Morgan’s serve — a stroke of luck for team ‘Worst Parenting Fail’, as Morgan’s plays weren’t quite as powerful as Artoria Alter’s; easier to receive and turn into own plays. A witch who spent millennia taking care of problems from afar with magecraft didn’t make for a great sports player.
With how many ribbons were part of her white and gold swimsuit, it was surprising that Morgan could play beach volleyball and move around without getting tangled up in them anyway. The bikinis of Artoria, Mordred, and Artoria Alter were much simpler in design.
Really, Morgan was the only one on the court with a swimsuit that looked impressively beautiful and was clearly crafted to draw attention. Perhaps this was one of the times in which her more girlish side peeked through; a trait that the other three with the same face but less developed physique on the court didn’t share.
Mordred received the ball that came directly at her and immediately got into position to jump as high as the pesky sand would allow her to. Once the ball returned to her — passed from Artoria — Mordred put all her winning intent into her right hand, which hit the ball at the highest point—
Right into the net.
“Ahhh, damn it! Dammit all!” Mordred kicked sand in frustration.
Artoria wanted to tell Mordred that she did well, or that she could become a much better player if she trained, or… anything, really. But she had a feeling that no matter what she said, it would’ve added insult to injury. So she remained silent.
In a sad sense of irony, that was the wrongest call to make.
“Match won by ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’!” Ritsuka called out. “But all of you played really well. Especially considering the circumstances…”
[Oh? Is a certain dense Master who couldn’t get a girlfriend if she paid for it trying to take a jab at the show’s host? Shouldn’t you know who is and isn’t a good target to pick a fight with? I thought humans have at least some basic survival instincts.]
Naturally, this part was broadcasted normally, for everyone to hear.
<That aside, the first match has been decided! Congratulations, ‘Coldest Lords of Edge’! It was a good and fair game. Don’t worry, there is no punishment for losing. I’m sure Fujimaru got some new impressions through this game, too. So everyone is a winner in that sense.>
“I… I guess, yeah,” Ritsuka admitted, though she wasn’t entirely sure.
[I guess our horny Master was too busy ogling her Servants in swimsuits like a freaking pervert. Geez, maybe we should put you on a leash… As soon as there’s some skin in sight, you can’t focus anymore. What, are you in heat? Then again, humans are in heat throughout the whole year.]
“That’s not it!” Ritsuka had to try and save her reputation; not that any of the Servants believed BB.
… did they? The way Morgan averted her gaze for a second spoke another story, and Mordred crossing her arms in front of her chest had suspicious timing as well.
‘Ugh, come on! I’m not like that…’
“You can ogle me anytime~” Lady Avalon piped up from her fancy singular seat, but was promptly ignored.
The worst you could do with a succubus was feed them. They were practically trolls in that regard.
[Anyway, we’ll hold a short break before the next game. This is your time to flirt with the hopelessly doomed-to-be-forever-alone bachelorette or find someone better to throw yourself at! Have fun!]
BB had something coming once this singularity was over, Ritsuka would make sure of that.
— After The Match: Artoria, taking one L after another in her life and beyond —
“I don’t think I could have performed better. It is a shame to drop out in the very first round but… In that particular matchup, it would have been difficult to win. Even from a Lostbelt, Morgan is a terrifying opponent.”
[Man, she hardly seems bothered about having lost.]
<That’s a knight for you. They can take a loss with dignity. There’s a really handsome appeal in that, no?>
[… is that the type you like, Senpai?]
<Hm, maybe?>
—
Seeing Artoria and Mordred at the lifeguard stand was worrying, but there was nothing Ritsuka could do.
“You see that barrier around the stand, right?” Lady Avalon wrapped her arms around Ritsuka from behind. “Even I would have a hard time sneaking in.”
“Is that because of Mordred’s attack on them earlier?”
“Fufu, no. They wouldn’t invite her in if that were the case. I’d say they are recording some of those scenes where the candidates comment on events for the show, and they don’t want any disturbance.”
“Makes sense.” Ritsuka nodded. “… wait, they aren’t actually airing this anywhere, right?”
“Ahaha~”
Leaving only an aura of flowers behind, Lady Avalon was gone without more of a trace than lingering lily-like flowers, faster than she had appeared out of nowhere.
“… right!?” Ritsuka raised her voice, fearing the worst.
— After The Match: Mordred, sore loser with daddy issues —
“I don’t have anything to say. No, nothing! Next time I’ll win!”
[Guess her fumble got to her real bad, huh? You’d think such a rebel would at least break a nose or two with a good spike when all the other players on the court are either her parents or look-alikes of them.]
<… BB, you really went a bit far with this match. Is this some personal vendetta of yours?>
[Me, and a personal vendetta? Well, as a final boss, naturally I have someone I want to take my dramatic revenge on! But sadly, she’s not here. So I’m only doing what’s necessary for a good quota.]
<Why do I have a feeling that you’re sulking?>
[… just your imagination, Senpai~]
—
Not much time was left before the next game — at a distance from the court sat Artoria and Mordred as far away from each other as space would allow at tables and chairs newly set up with parasols.
Waitresses with a vague look served sugary, cold drinks and food to those who sat in this relaxation area that was decorated with a gigantic sign with lights in the brightest, most obnoxious colors that read “LOSER’S AREA”.
They could watch the upcoming matches from a distance and were treated well, but not without humiliation. As expected from BB’s craft.
Ritsuka didn’t even want to know what other team names BB came up with… but could it even get worse?
Outside of developing a fondness for Charlotte Corday, this is how my FGO experience after maintenance was (as documented in Discord DMs with friends)
Note for my reasoning for my selection:
Medusa is the prettiest Saber available imo
Jeanne has glasses in one ascension
I am the one Britomart fan in existence
There is no Rider I really care about but Salter is nice I guess
As a Fate/Extra fan, I love Nero and I'm known as Caster Master by friends so I really need her (and while picking Tonelico was tempting, do I really need NP8 Tonelico...?)
I love Huyan Zhuo so much you have no idea
Morgan needs no explanation. I love her. Ishikawa Yui's voice. Perfection.
Moon Cancer is the only class of which I don't have a single SSR so far and I really like BB a lot
Melt is a prime example of my taste in women being questionably dangerous but I'd love to have her on NP3
-> Huyan Zhuo NP2 (yessss much happiness)
Note: I do have NP7 Tonelico right now. Meaning my NP5 fully maxed Tonelico, and another NP2 Tonelico I keep around because you cannot have too many Tonelico.
However, I ended up going for the GSSR that had Huyan Zhuo because I love Huyan Zhuo.
I also got Space Ereshkigal but Huyan Zhuo was still more important.
Then depression hit. Fuck me. Fuck my lack of foresight. (I grinded for a good while to max the two new Append Skills then...)
And finally, Marie Alter hit NP2.
.... and, as a non-FGO bonus - I ran into a shiny Golbat on my LeafGreen today while doing the post-game quest. (Played on legit cartridge on an NDS with capture card)
Petrichor: Frozen Rain Melting ch2 - Morgan x Castoria (Fate/Grand Order)
Content Warnings (whole fic): Non-Con・Major Character Death
Main Pairing (Series): Tonelico x Castoria
Part 2 of the Petrichor (Time Loop) series
Served to Morgan on a silver platter, Castoria expects this to mark the end of her journey before it has even begun. But it appears that the Winter Queen has different plans.
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Character Study | Time Loop | Very Hurt/Little Comfort | Trauma | Abuse | conflicted feelings | Mild (Passive) Suicidal Ideation | Past Abuse | Bonding Over Trauma | Kinda incest but not really | Pseudo-Incest | Castoria is 20 instead of 16 | MorCas (because AO3 won’t differentiate between Morgan and Tonelico) | Romance is More Subtextual (Probably)
Also posted on: AO3
Petrichor series: AO3
-> ★ ToneCas Agenda ★ Discord server <-
<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->
02 - Morgan
The first thing Artoria notices when her consciousness slowly returns is the uncharacteristic silence — the lack of the environmental sounds she’s grown used to.
No gusts of wind slipping through between crooked wooden planks of a hastily put together barn to create a low howl, no buzzing of insects, and no fairies bustling nearby.
There’s no knocking on the barn’s frail door, no objects hitting any of the walls after being thrown at Artoria’s home for no other reason but to lure her out without having to get too close. Often for no reason at all.
It’s peaceful, suspiciously so. As though this is a dream, but none of those she’s familiar with.
It’s too warm to be one of Artoria’s dreams, too tranquil and gentle. No dream would feel like this; they wouldn’t permit any rest in which she can let down her guard even momentarily.
When Artoria rouses, she feels soft fabric brush against her arm. Smoother than the tattered clothes she’s used to. There’s not a single stalk of hay stabbing her; the surface she lies on is perfectly comfortable, yielding to her weight a bit.
‘… where—!?’
Artoria sits up immediately, her heart almost leaping out of her ribcage when the last moments from before she was out cold flash before her mind again: Barghest, a short conversation — no more than that.
Caught. Captured. No idea how much time has passed, not a single clue as to where she is.
Heat and cold are fighting for dominance inside of Artoria’s body as the realization of her situation sinks in and becomes too real too soon. Too much to handle for both her mind and body, through which a searing heat that burns like ice spreads.
The disorientation doesn’t help Artoria form a clear thought, as she can barely register details of her surroundings. Her senses shut down to standby, filtering what’s not processable. Nothing besides the fact that she’s in an unfamiliar room, almost as big as her barn, makes it through to her brain.
A cold sweat makes Artoria shudder when she realizes where she must be — Camelot.
“You’re awake.”
The all too calm, disinterested voice catches Artoria’s full attention immediately. Silky soft and smooth, yet icy cold.
A tall woman with blueish white hair, a black dress with blue highlights, and dull blue eyes that have long since lost their shine, stands up from a chair in the room’s corner where she’s been sitting. Waiting for Artoria to regain consciousness.
She carries herself with the confidence only a naturally gifted fairy would know and the grace only a noble could possess. Her mere presence is a force that commands utter submission from everything and everyone in her vicinity. Maybe it reaches even beyond such limited borders.
This fundamental display of power and unquestionable superiority from a beauty that’s hard to be rivaled leaves no doubt as to who this fairy is, even if Artoria has never personally seen her before.
“Morgan…!” Artoria snarls.
Faced with her destined foe, the cruel Winter Queen of Fairy Britain, animosity wells up in Artoria immediately. Like a caged beast that has been resting, waiting for this exact moment to finally bare its teeth, Artoria’s belligerence rears its head.
Cornered as she may be — in enemy territory even — for Artoria, fight always takes priority over flight. This hardheadedness has carried her through all that Tintagel has thrown at her, and it won’t back down even faced with Morgan.
“Do not misunderstand your position, Child of Prophecy. I have no intention of engaging you,” Morgan says, closing her eyes as she steps towards the bed on which Artoria sits, fist clutching the blanket that’s still covering half her body.
Morgan remains unbothered. As though she possesses no sense for Artoria’s hostility flaring up like carelessly forgotten embers near woods, risking a forest fire engulfing everything in its uncontrollably destructive nature.
Artoria wants to talk back for the sake of argument. Ask questions to which the answers wouldn’t matter. Anything that gives form to the defiance Artoria feels in her core; the growing dissent that pushes any weakness that may stand in its way aside.
Yet, all Artoria manages is to silently glare at the audacity of Morgan, who won’t even take her seriously.
Like when cornered, near-captured prey rises up in retaliation for the sake of plain survival, the desperate effort matters not to the predator. When the outcome is already decided, and the end result cannot be changed.
Fairy Eyes don’t lie — Morgan is as impassive as she appears. Artoria — anything Artoria may do or say — is wholly irrelevant to her.
The Child of Prophecy does not concern the Winter Queen. Their positions are unquestionable.
“You are no threat whatsoever,” Morgan states, meeting Artoria’s gaze head-on. Her eyes look through Artoria rather than at her, that’s how insignificant even the Child of Prophecy is in front of Morgan.
But Artoria is not that easily intimidated, even with the hair on her nape standing up, even with her throat feeling dry enough to scratch. She stills the trembling of her hand, whether from fear or anger — or both — is something Artoria won’t linger on.
“Is that so?” Artoria grits her teeth. The Winter Queen should reconsider; she shall be proven wrong. Morgan should look at Artoria, at the very least.
… shouldn’t she?
“You have not rung a single bell,” Morgan recounts. “Without the pilgrimage, even the Child of Prophecy is weaker than a mere human.”
‘… so what!?’
Artoria wishes once more to talk back, but she cannot bring herself to do so. The words stay stuck in her own mind, where it’s easy to act defiant. The syllables that make it farther get stuck in her throat, where the constriction allows not a single sound through.
There’s no choice but to accept the futility, when even Artoria cannot defend herself. Her eyes wander down to the blanket she’s gripping tightly, as though her life depends on it. A dulled, light blue, almost gray.
It feels familiar, as though its color paints the state of Artoria’s soul. Nothing vivid about it, not remarkable in the slightest. Easy to look past, even easier to cast aside.
Artoria knows Morgan’s words to be true; she knows better than anyone just how pathetically useless she is. Not for a second has Artoria genuinely believed she could ever stand up to Morgan.
The pilgrimage has always been a pipe dream. Nothing but foolish grandeur, an expectation Artoria has run with — after having it forced upon her by the whims of others — for no other reason but it being inevitable; not because she could do it. Artoria isn’t capable.
And Morgan has realized the same thing.
The flames of rebellion, stoked by the presence of her arch-nemesis and fueled by sheer obstinacy, meet the heavy rain of calculated realism, of observation and conclusion. They’re extinguished, leaving frail ashes behind.
Like a balloon quickly filled with air, Artoria’s bout of courage has been a fleeting experience. Temporary, until the smallest sharp object pokes a hole into the membrane — immediately deflating the balloon that’s Artoria’s determination.
It’s not meant to last, and once crushed, cannot well up in the same manner again.
‘… I really am no good, huh?’
Artoria stays silent; there is nothing she could say to persuade Morgan. Not when Artoria herself doesn’t have the slightest bit of faith in her capabilities.
One cannot convince another that they’re wrong when what they’re saying is nothing but the truth.
‘… This will be my end…’
Without being able — willing — to fight back, Artoria is at Morgan’s mercy. Artoria realizes this now, more than before. Now that her mind is of calm serenity — once her fighting spirit has turned dormant, as it shall be.
There is no question as to what Morgan’s plans with the Child of Prophecy are.
The queen’s army has executed every single fairy that has been suspected of possibly being the prophesied one; no exceptions have ever been made. The genuine Child of Prophecy won’t be any different.
As the one single threat to Morgan’s rule, the one thorn in her side, it’s only natural she’d want Artoria gone.
Although Morgan has said herself that she doesn’t even perceive Artoria as a threat. At worst, Artoria’s existence may be a little stone in Morgan’s shoe — annoying, but nothing that commands immediate attention. Or any at all. A minor inconvenience, so easy to look past.
‘At least it’s finally over…’
Tintagel is behind her, and the pilgrimage is the furthest from Artoria’s mind. Everything comes to an end here; there’s no way Artoria could flee Camelot. Not by herself, not even if she had the support of many others… which she doesn’t.
Artoria would’ve failed either way.
It has been a matter of time, nothing more. Eventually, sooner or later, Artoria would have fallen into Morgan’s hands for sure, if not killed by one of her Fairy Knights without ever meeting Morgan personally.
There has never been a possibility in which things would go differently. For someone who cannot even stand up to the common fairy, a pilgrimage is impossible. It will end in ruin, try as one might.
Considering that, this premature end to her story is merciful. Artoria accepts it.
Artoria embraces her demise.
If she’d known this to be an option, she might’ve wished for it much sooner. This is the one way to absolve herself of all the burdens and expectations immediately, to just be done with it all. No consequences. No lingering regrets.
“However,” Morgan interrupts Artoria’s self-loathing, in which the genuine feelings of despair she normally doesn’t allow herself take hold, “I do not see you as my enemy either.”
Artoria blinks — she’s not perceived as Morgan’s enemy? Despite her entire being existing to oppose Morgan?
“… what?”
“You have done nothing to oppose me. I have no reason to see you as an enemy. It follows that I have no reason to treat you as an enemy either.”
“B-but—”
“Naturally,” Morgan continues, her voice carrying a warning edge that threatens to cut any fool careless enough not to practice caution, “That will change if you are to follow the prophecy and set out on the pilgrimage.”
Artoria tries to swallow, but the lump in her throat that has appeared out of nowhere to replace the dryness makes that difficult. She’s all too conscious of how strangulated she feels by the oppressive air, by Morgan’s threat.
Morgan watches as Artoria ponders over her options — over whether she even has any.
“Forsake your destiny, Child of Prophecy,” Morgan utters almost as an order, though it carries the sincerity of a plea. “Do not follow the prophecy. Do not go on the pilgrimage. Do not even ring a single bell.”
What Morgan asks for is simple. It’s the first time anyone has told Artoria this; any other time, the expectations to do all these things have been placed on her instead.
Artoria cannot place the feeling that twists her stomach into a knot. Wrong. Strange. Foreign at best, nothing that seems right. This isn’t — shouldn’t be — an option.
After all, it has never been a matter of choice.
Inevitable fate, that’s what the prophecy is. Artoria has been born for this purpose, and she would carry it out or die trying. As a fairy, nothing matters more than the purpose she’s born for. That’s how Fairy Britain works.
Even if personally, Artoria couldn’t care less about this purpose.
“I don’t have a choice,” Artoria mumbles, not facing Morgan.
There’s nothing but the failure to fulfill the prophecy waiting for Artoria. If Morgan can save Artoria from this destiny — then Artoria pleads with Morgan to extend this mercy.
Against all odds, against common sense, Artoria hopes that the Winter Queen possesses a heart after all.
‘It’s what I have to do. Just… just kill me. Kill me so I don’t have to.’
Artoria knows Morgan could easily end her life with a single swift move. Morgan has decimated groups of fairies personally before, Artoria has heard the stories.
If it’s Morgan to behead Artoria or pierce her heart, she wouldn’t feel a thing, and neither would Morgan. It’s so easy. So simple.
The one, straight-forward way out.
“You are mistaken,” Morgan chastises. “It is your own choice.”
Artoria turns to look at Morgan — the queen’s expression hasn’t changed a bit, and she’s entirely serious. The one person who leaves the decision to Artoria herself is the one who should care about Artoria’s whims the least.
It’s more heartless than the selfishness of the fairies who leave Artoria no real agency; those were egoistic and reprehensible.
Unlike them, Morgan respects Artoria’s wishes.
“I don’t care about the prophecy,” Artoria admits. She doesn’t want to do it. She doesn’t want to try and fail, Artoria doesn’t want to hurt anymore. “But, but I— I can’t let everyone down.”
This is so annoying. Even given the choice, Artoria is incapable of making it; clinging to her status as Child of Prophecy like a lifeline. The one thing guiding her through life, as painful and utterly inevitable to end in failure as it is.
Her purpose — the reason she’s born, the root for her existence. It’s nothing so easy to give up, not by herself.
‘Might as well just die here… and have it be over with.’
The only option to escape her destiny lies with Morgan. It’s up to the Winter Queen to rid herself of the Child of Prophecy, who’s long since given up on herself, on everything.
And yet, Morgan doesn’t end Artoria’s life.
It’s so frustrating. Artoria is ready for this, wishes for her own death even — and yet, Morgan refuses to do what she should do.
Rejecting duty comes so easy to Morgan, when Artoria can’t even bear the mere thought of truly rejecting her own beyond complaints. Perhaps it takes a gaze as dulled and devoid of attachment as Morgan’s to make such decisions.
“I see,” Morgan says, a stranger to Artoria’s inner turmoil. “In that case, I will treat you as a prisoner for now.”
Morgan’s hand reaches out, to which Artoria instinctively winces. Her eyes are closed shut as she expects her longed for yet feared demise, when Morgan’s fingertips just barely graze her neck. They feel soft and gentle; the touch elicits goosebumps on Artoria’s skin.
When Morgan removes her hand, Artoria finds a collar around her neck — the wicked queen’s magecraft, Artoria can feel that much. This collar is powerful, that is clear, though Artoria cannot tell what it may be capable of.
“This will be your chamber. You are not to step into the halls on your own,” Morgan explains, truly treating Artoria as a prisoner. She looks toward a small wooden door. “That door leads to a moderate bathroom.”
Morgan herself makes her way to the other, bigger door, the one leading out of this room and into the halls of Camelot. An outside space prohibited for Artoria to roam.
“Nothing good will come from being the ‘Child of Prophecy’, Artoria of Tintagel,” Morgan says melancholically before she opens the door through which she leaves.
The first time she has called Artoria by name rather than title, which sounds disgustingly wrong coming from Morgan — far too intimate.
Once alone, Artoria’s hands immediately reach up to feel the collar — it’s not fully solid, made of what feels like condensed mana. It feels connected to Artoria’s body directly, fitting like another layer of skin. Around three centimeters in width, half a thumb thick.
It’s entirely unobstructive to the point that Artoria wouldn’t feel its presence if she didn’t concentrate on it, which only makes it scarier. Too easy to forget, while unaware of its capabilities. That’s a hidden danger, a threat that can’t be fully assessed.
A collar made of mana like this can’t be removed without the use of expert magecraft, which far surpasses Artoria’s skills as a mage — Artoria cannot remove this collar on her own.
It serves as tangible proof of her new situation: a prisoner of Morgan.
No, rather than a prisoner, it makes Artoria a pet. The queen’s little pet, kept and taken care of, expected to be obedient. Being a prisoner would be less humiliating, less degrading.
Artoria isn’t even treated as a fairy, she’s seen as less.
The usual, all-too practiced smile creeps onto Artoria’s face at the realization of that, like it always shows when Artoria is faced with ruthless sides of life that she cannot do anything about.
A smile that isn’t genuine; a force of habit that’s been cultivated for two decades. It’s a mask that exists for the sole purpose of making pain easier to bear.
‘Nothing changed, huh…?’
In Tintagel, Artoria has been treated as livestock. In Camelot, she’s treated as a pet. Though the surroundings are more luxurious now than anything Artoria has ever known — or dreamed of — the fact remains that she is at the mercy of others who see her as beneath them.
Not a single wish of hers is granted. Not even an end to her misery is permitted to Artoria.
“… what a joke,” Artoria mutters to herself.
A glance at her surroundings doesn’t lift her spirits. Spacious as this room is, it’s as cold as Morgan — barren and empty, meticulously clean. A sizeable, soft bed in the center, a dresser against one wall. Two bedside tables, one on each side of this too opulent bed.
It doesn’t feel like a prison chamber, though that’s exactly what it is for Artoria.
Artoria rids herself of the blanket and puts her feet on the cold floor, surprised to find herself barefooted. On the first step, Artoria trips and falls forward; her reaction is too slow to catch the fall.
“… ouch,” Artoria yelps. “What the heck?”
She sits up, rubbing her reddened chin in hopes that it wouldn’t bruise. A wet tear clings to her lower eyelid at the sudden, unexpected pain; at least Artoria hasn’t bitten her tongue on impact. Her other hand absentmindedly rubs over her thigh — a sensation she hardly feels.
“… ah.” Artoria realizes the reason she’s fallen immediately at the numb feeling.
Her limbs haven’t stopped being sore, every single muscle is screaming for — demanding! — a break that has never been granted to them. That hasn’t changed; it couldn’t have.
In Tintagel, where rest has never been worth a consideration, Artoria has always been able to push herself well beyond her limits. It’s easy when there’s no choice.
This doesn’t apply in Camelot, however.
With nothing immediate to do, nothing to focus on and force herself to take care of, Artoria’s body refuses to comply any longer. Warm tears start rolling down her cheeks; droplets fall down into Artoria’s lap, soaked up by the fabric of an unfamiliar plain white dress she’s wearing.
Artoria sniffles, rubbing at her eyes with her hands to try and stop the tears from welling up, from streaming down her face.
It doesn’t help. If anything, Artoria is making it worse. Her nose clogs up, following suit to aid in the ugly crying that has followed the breaking of the dam.
“Why… am I…” Artoria sobs pathetically, hating herself for a display even weaker than she usually shows. “I can’t stop…”
Her voice raises a pitch, like the whine of a kicked puppy that doesn’t understand why it’s made to hurt, what it did wrong to deserve that treatment.
Artoria pulls herself back up onto the bed and hides herself under the blanket, weeping as the tears wet the pillow she nuzzles into. The blanket covering her face helps feeling safe, feeling disconnected from the cruel world outside.
Just for a moment, Artoria wants to be alone. She wants to wallow in her misery; a chance to let out all the emotional turmoil held back for nearly two decades now that she’s already started.
‘I hate this… I hate it… I hate everything…’
Pathetic. Useless. If only Morgan would’ve ended her.
It doesn’t take too long for the fatigue to catch up after all the tension dissipates into tears and sobs, and combined with the physical exhaustion accumulated in Tintagel, Artoria is pulled into a deep, dreamless slumber.
It’s the longest sleep she’s ever gotten. Undisturbed, and peaceful — no work is waiting, no prophecy is lying around the corner.
The first genuine rest Artoria gets in her life, and it’s in Camelot as Morgan’s prisoner.
Petrichor: Frozen Rain Melting ch1 - Morgan x Castoria (Fate/Grand Order)
Content Warnings (whole fic): Non-Con・Major Character Death
Main Pairing (Series): Tonelico x Castoria
Part 2 of the Petrichor (Time Loop) series
Served to Morgan on a silver platter, Castoria expects this to mark the end of her journey before it has even begun. But it appears that the Winter Queen has different plans.
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Character Study | Time Loop | Very Hurt/Little Comfort | Trauma | Abuse | conflicted feelings | Mild (Passive) Suicidal Ideation | Past Abuse | Bonding Over Trauma | Kinda incest but not really | Pseudo-Incest | Castoria is 20 instead of 16 | MorCas (because AO3 won’t differentiate between Morgan and Tonelico) | Romance is More Subtextual (Probably)
Also posted on: AO3
Petrichor series: AO3
-> ★ ToneCas Agenda ★ Discord server <-
<- Avalon I (Interlude) | Next Chapter ->
01 - Artoria Caster
Step after heavy step in the moist soil, Artoria pulls the heavy wooden plow forward. The sun is already setting, and she’s only gotten started with the last furrow of the final field.
Exhaustion has accumulated throughout the whole day, during which there hasn’t been time for a single break. Not without inevitably prolonging the working time deeper into the night.
The fountain from which Artoria drew speed and energy when she started in the early morning has long since dried up; what remains is the last bit of strength she can muster. It’s not much. Not nearly enough. But it’s all Artoria has left, and she pushes on with legs that feel as though they carry the weight of iron ingots instead of flesh and bone.
Her mind is blank. Shut off, as not a single thought exists that would do her any good. Distractions would slow Artoria down, giving mental space to the task would only amplify the numb soreness that replaces every other sensation in her body.
Artoria huffs as she puts all of her weight into the next step when she feels the plow having gotten stuck. It doesn’t budge.
“Come on…!”
Until she’s done plowing the fields, Artoria’s day won’t end. No rest is permitted for the Child of Prophecy before she finishes her work — physical labor that fairies of Tintagel could take care of with their magic instead. With ease.
Not that they would do that. Not when Artoria can be made to do it manually instead.
The Child of Prophecy needs to get stronger, so they’d claim. Artoria is a burden for Tintagel, a danger to even shelter in — near — the village. At the very least, she should earn her stay, make up for the trouble she brings.
And earn her stay she does — Artoria works harder than anyone, each bubbling up complaint swallowed like the bitter bile it is. A few furrows were already done by sunrise; Artoria had started early.
It had become easier when it wasn’t dark outside anymore. Not that the sky is bright in Fairy Britain, no matter the time of day or weather, but at least Artoria stopped shivering once it was daytime. The sun’s warmth does wonders.
By that point, her hands were already numb. Better than hurting.
Suddenly, with the next push into which Artoria puts all her stubborn remaining energy, the plow gets unstuck. As though it’s never been stuck to begin with. The lack of resistance to her forward movement catches Artoria off-guard — she slips on the moist soil and lands face-first in the mud.
Even the plow is actively working against the Child of Prophecy. Not even the soil of Fairy Britain can stand a Fairy of Paradise.
Moist earth feels disgusting. It’s sticky, it’s cold. Clumps of dark, almost gooey sand that smells earthy and soils anything it touches. Some would stick to her face and hair, even more would stain her dress.
Artoria wants to cry.
Yet no tears come when she pushes herself up on arms that wish to give in more than anything. Her heart has already grown too numb to make room for sadness; the roots of sorrow would rot before they could settle.
The petals of tears can’t fall if the flower to carry them never blooms.
That’s for the better. A crybaby Child of Prophecy is almost as bad as a good-for-nothing Child of Prophecy. Either invites retribution for the audacity.
Artoria can’t keep going; her body practically screams at her that it has long reached its limit. Her legs are sore. The soles of her feet hurt. The blisters on her hands sting. These feelings are all too familiar; they’re an everyday companion in Artoria’s life.
Tintagel fairies don’t care about that, though.
When Artoria wipes the back of her hand over her face to get rid of the sticky soil, a stone hits the back of her head. It hurts. The point of impact sears hot. Maybe it’s bleeding. A headache forms — a pressure that wraps around Artoria’s head for a moment, until it settles in her temples.
But Artoria’s mouth simply curves into a smile as a reaction. A practiced, habitual smile that sells the idea of an easy-going, carefree girl who’s trying her best for the sake of others.
“What are you lazing around for, Caster!? Hurry up already!”
Artoria finally pushes herself up from the earth onto shaky legs that want to refuse supporting her weight any longer, but Artoria pays them no mind. They wouldn’t actually give out anyway.
It’s all just such a pain.
“Sorry,” Artoria calls back to the fairy who threw the stone. “I’ll be done soon!”
“We should sell her out to Morgan after all,” another fairy grumbles. “She’s useless.”
Artoria feels nothing as she pushes on, the plow pulled behind her. She bites her bottom lip to keep her thoughts to herself. The smile on her lips won’t disappear, even as her teeth sink into the chapped skin.
‘Just do that. Sell me to Morgan. I don’t care.’
They won’t.
For as long as Artoria can remember, the fairies of Tintagel have used this threat. They don’t mean it, because they want Morgan gone. And for that, they need the Child of Prophecy — they need Artoria Caster.
If not for the Child of Prophecy, those fairies would have to get rid of Morgan themselves.
They know they stand no chance against the queen who rules this island with an iron fist. Fairies are reprehensibly selfish hedonists, but they aren’t stupid. If it were possible to kill Morgan, they would’ve done so long ago.
The Child of Prophecy is the one they place all their hopes on.
Artoria Caster is the one they place their selfish expectations on.
They don’t care about Artoria. Couldn’t care less, in fact. They don’t care about anything. All they want is to get rid of whatever is a thorn in their side.
Fairies don’t care who rids them of Morgan’s rule and gives them the freedom to pursue their desires freely. The prophecy promises Artoria to be the one to do so, so in Artoria they trust.
On the Child of Prophecy, they rely. That alone makes it acceptable to waste their time and resources on raising her.
When Artoria finally reaches the end of the field, the last furrow done, she pulls the dirtied plow away, back into the barn that’s her own home. That’s where the old, squeaky plow belongs, and that’s where Artoria belongs, too.
The last thing left for today is cleaning the plow. She’ll need water for that. Her barn doesn’t have any. With two buckets in her hands, Artoria trots over to a nearby river.
She fills the buckets with water while her head remains empty. Menial work like this runs on autopilot, Artoria doesn’t even want to think. She’d only feel more miserable if she let herself ponder the reality that’s her life.
With a splash, Artoria finds herself in the shallow water of the river. A group of short fairies stands at the shore, laughing at Artoria’s misfortune. The water is cold, Artoria is freezing. Her clothes cling to her skin.
The mud clinging to Artoria and her clothes dissolves in the stream, at least partially. The current carries dirt away. If only it would carry Artoria along.
“At least she’s clean now!”
The fairies’ laughter bellows through the area at the hilarity of that. They’re enjoying themselves at the sight of Artoria’s misfortune, as usual.
“Who does she think she is, dragging all that dirt into Tintagel? Just because she’s the Child of Prophecy?”
“She’s probably just a fake! So weak and useless.”
Artoria is already used to this. Saying anything would only invite more trouble. Fighting back would be a pain, she’s weaker than any other fairy. It’s over faster if she simply endures.
They’re right anyway. And pathetic on top of that.
The fairies can act as haughty, carefree, and even violent as they want — Fairy Eyes see through such pretense. They see the truth, the genuine essence of things. Whether one likes or not.
Artoria wishes they didn’t.
She sees clear as day that fairies hate her. They’re afraid of her. A Fairy of Paradise is an unwanted existence in this land, fairies feel that instinctually. Artoria is rejected and loathed for her being.
Not for what she did. Nothing she does would change that. That’s simply how it is.
Once the fairies leave her alone, Artoria picks up the buckets of water and carries them back to Tintagel — not quite. Only to the barn that’s her home, where the plow is kept. Just outside of Tintagel, so that Artoria doesn’t even entertain the delusion that she’s part of Tintagel.
Artoria takes a cloth — a remainder of an old dress she used to wear when she was younger — and soaks it in the cold water in one bucket. She sneezes as she wipes the dirt off the plow. With stiff fingers, grown difficult to move from the cold water, Artoria keeps rubbing the wet fabric over sullied wood.
Her clothes are still dripping wet, and the cold reaches her bones. Winter is over, but this doesn’t feel like spring. Artoria doesn’t register her teeth chattering, or her nose running. She wants to get done already.
If she’s not done by the time anyone checks on her, they’ll probably hit her. It wouldn’t be the first time fairies beat her with the buckets, then make her get fresh water to finish her job. Some bruises from the day before still sting.
Eventually, Artoria finishes.
She empties out the buckets and returns them to where they belong, then comes back to her barn. It’s probably around midnight at this point. Time to call it a day, time for her first and only break of the day.
Artoria casts the one most useful spell she knows — the most convenient magecraft Merlin taught her, back before his voice disappeared — and warms herself. Her clothes finally start drying in the comfortable heat.
Spare clothes are a luxury that Artoria wouldn’t even dream of. If nothing else, the water that has seeped into the fabric is a good conductor, helping to spread the warmth.
Artoria lies down on the hay that’s her bed. The earthy scent calms her down, it’s the one peaceful part of her life. Kind enough that Artoria can ignore the stray stalks poking her skin, scratching with any movement.
Though she winces whenever it hits a fresh bruise, drawing in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. Not that she has the headspace to be mindful of that.
Artoria can barely even feel her limbs themselves, only a sore pain that replaces any other sensation. Her whole body feels so unbelievably heavy, like the densest boulder that even the strongest fairy couldn’t lift.
This is normal.
If Artoria is lucky, tomorrow will be a lighter day. The fields are plowed now, sowing takes little time. Maybe she can visit Ector again, too. Artoria hasn’t seen the grumpy fairy in a while.
There aren’t too many chances left to visit him either.
In a few days, Artoria will finally leave Tintagel, once she reaches the age of 20. The fairies have been impatient for that day to come — finally, the prophecy will truly fall into place. This is the day they’ve raised Artoria for.
Artoria will leave Tintagel, set out on the pilgrimage, free the land of Morgan’s rule… And most importantly, Artoria will no longer be Tintagel’s problem.
They’ll be rid of the bother that’s Artoria Caster.
“There’s no point,” Artoria mutters to herself as her eyelids grow heavy. “I won’t make it anyway.”
It’s a truth that Artoria accepts as a fact. She doesn’t want to be the Child of Prophecy, and she has no faith in her own capabilities. Not a single part of her cares about what happens to the fairies or this island anyway.
Artoria is indifferent to all of that.
Leaving Tintagel is a blessing, at least. Her life will get easier for sure. Even with the pilgrimage, it’s not as bad as staying in Tintagel. Maybe she’ll be able to escape all this for good.
Isn’t there that forest…? Maybe that’s worth a try.
A tear finally runs down Artoria’s cheek as she dozes off, perfectly aware that her fate is inescapable. Even trying to run away would be such a pain.
No break is granted to the Child of Prophecy. No true rest is ever permitted for Artoria Caster.
Even the greatest exhaustion would not prevent the storm of darkness, the malice swirling around her in her dreams, the one place where she should be able to take shelter from the cruelties of her daily life.
Artoria just wants this all to be over already.
###
The bright guiding star, the one source of strength Artoria has known, is nowhere to be found anymore. Gone without a trace. She’s surrounded by nothing but blackened currents.
A storm of wretched hatred with Artoria at its heart — but this eye of the storm knows no calm.
It’s where the heavy animosity concentrates, where gusts of malevolence cut the skin without leaving a trace. The pressure is almost suffocating, as though the animosity in the turbulent air leaves little room for oxygen.
Despite the hardship, Artoria continues walking against the storm. Step after step, even when her footing feels shaky. As much as she wants to give up, her legs carry her forward regardless.
Something inside of Artoria pushes her onwards.
The star can’t be gone; it has to be somewhere. Maybe she just can’t spot it. With her eyes squinted as though that allows for clearer sight, Artoria stubbornly marches forward, braving the hateful storm, all on her own.
What has she endured all the pain and sadness for, if even the one thing that was bright is no more? What hope has Artoria been foolishly clinging to?
She can’t accept it to be gone. Artoria won’t accept this.
Even after what feels like an eternity — when her heart and soul have long since accepted the futility of the search for something that might as well never have existed outside of hopeful delusion — Artoria refuses to quit.
She knows there’s no point. Nothing will be found. There’s nothing waiting at the end of this path; nothing in this endless hurricane of pain that looks the same no matter where you look.
Artoria laughs at her own stupidity. A bitter laugh that carries all the resentment for her own self in it.
Suddenly, the storm’s gusts stop cutting her. As though something — the air itself perhaps — shields Artoria from the dark malice surrounding her; something invisible, something that can’t truly be felt.
Something so frail and barely there that it may shatter if touched. Something not meant to exist.
Artoria doesn’t understand what this is, but it feels warm. Warm and safe, kind and protective.
Like a lover’s embrace — an inexplicably familiar gentleness.
The nightmare ends as the storm dissipates into nothingness, and no more dream follows this night. A calm after the storm is granted as respite.
Artoria won’t be able to make sense of this experience even once she leaves the slumber’s land of dreams. What stays with her is the reassurance of something out there not wanting Artoria to be hurt and harmed; something that cares.
The star may be gone, but it’s no longer needed.
---------
The next day comes in silence. No fairy of Tintagel interrupts Artoria’s peace this morning; they must have been too engrossed with whatever thing new and shiny that caught their fancy. Maybe they’ve found a human.
It would be better if they didn’t; better for the poor human.
Artoria stretches, feeling every single muscle in her body — even those she hasn’t known she has — utterly sore. She wants to stay on the hay for a bit longer. Maybe all day.
But Artoria knows better than to follow her slothful whims. If she’s found lazing off in her barn, she might get dragged into work, or training. Anything to turn this weak Fairy of Paradise into a useful Child of Prophecy.
Artoria shudders at the memories that creep up, then wipes them from her mind.
“All right! Time for another day!” She slaps her own cheeks for motivation.
It stings, but that’s a sweet pain that distracts her from the exhaustion that still lingers. Just enough to hype Artoria up for another day — enough to last another day.
She leaves her barn and makes her way to the nearby stream once more. Last night, Artoria didn’t have the mind to care, but now she really wants to wash her face at least.
The peace and quiet of the walk is enjoyable — tranquil and soothing for a hurt soul. Outside of Tintagel, once in a while, Fairy Britain isn’t all that bad. Moments like these lull Artoria into the foolish belief that her life could be less burdensome someday.
Artoria knows immediately that she’s been an idiot to even permit such a thought when she finds none other than a Fairy Knight at the river.
Not just any of them — Fairy Knight Gawain. Morgan’s right hand.
‘Ugh, Bageko…!? What’s she doing here?’
Artoria wouldn’t have thought to meet this oversized mountain of a fairy near Tintagel ever again, not since Barghest had Ector forge her armor. There was no need for that arrogant fairy to be here.
The worst luck to run into a Fairy Knight.
Despite quick reflexes, Artoria barely manages half a step back until Barghest locks eyes with her. She’s been spotted.
Artoria clicks her tongue, but before she knows it, Barghest grips the collar of the still somewhat muddied dress and holds Artoria up by it. Not even her toes can connect with the ground anymore; caught. Captured and helpless.
“Are you the Child of Prophecy?” Barghest asks.
“W-what makes you think that? Let go,” Artoria growls as she kicks her legs in defiance.
She can’t get caught, not now. Not when she’s so close to leaving Tintagel behind and embarking on the pilgrimage she’ll fail.
“You’re a fairy, yet weak as a human,” Barghest states as a matter of fact. “Your appearance and this location match what we’ve been told as well.”
‘Who did…?’
Someone actually told the queen’s army about Artoria? The betrayal cuts deep, but Artoria only intensifies her struggle against Barghest’s hold.
Barghest has no confirmation, and Artoria certainly won’t hand that out either. She’ll play dumb if she has to; Barghest must be stupid enough to believe those lies, too.
“You won’t talk,” Barghest concludes. “Very well. I will take you to Camelot, and then we will see.”
Artoria’s eyes widen — Camelot?
Hadn’t the fairies of Tintagel spoken of Morgan ordering the execution of the Child of Prophecy on the spot? Hadn’t they said that all kinds of fairies were killed immediately on suspicion?
‘Why—’
Artoria doesn’t get to finish that thought. With a swift hit to Artoria’s nape, she’s out cold, accompanied by the return of yesterday’s headache. Barghest has no patience to deal with the tantrum of a suspected Child of Prophecy — she won’t entertain Artoria’s confusion or disbelief.
While Artoria is unconscious, Barghest produces fabric to tie Artoria’s wrists together — a precaution in case the Child of Prophecy awakens early. A blindfold is carefully tied to cover Artoria’s eyes before Barghest puts the knocked out Artoria over her shoulder.
Artoria will not see anyone in Tintagel again. She will not return to the barn, the seeds would be sown by another fairy of the village in her stead. They would believe Artoria fled, ran off ungrateful after everything they’ve done for — to — the Child of Prophecy.
She couldn’t even tell Ector goodbye. Would he wait for Artoria at his shop, just a bit outside of Tintagel?
With this, Barghest makes her way to Camelot, where Morgan is waiting.
It's been way too hot for like a week now. I don't like complaining and whining about that too openly because I'm aware that a lot of countries have a much, much harsher summer.
But I'm just so, sooo bad with somewhat higher temperatures that it hits me hard. Luckily not impacting my health but I'm practically useless because my brain feels melted and I can't really bring myself to do anything but wait until it's better.
I'm only really fine until 25°C, that's the maximum I can take. It's been 40°C outside today (I did not leave my apartment), and indoors didn't get below 26°C since Tuesday.
Ahhhhhhhh. I want to write but my head won't even focus for half a sentence if I try. I hate summer so, so much.
I'm spending hot days like I used to spent the days on which my depression took over: sitting it out, passing time, not wanting to exist. It's awful.
You can take this as a "Hey I'm not dead, just dead inside temporarily" note. If I hadn't already lost all faith in weather forecasts, I would get up my hope for next week cooling down somewhat... but we'll have to see...
I just reread the draft for chapter 1 of Petrichor part 2 "Frozen Rain Melting" again to edit and somewhat prepare to post it in the near future and.... god, this is so fucking depressing. Who hurt me??
Petrichor: Avalon I (Interlude) - Tonelico x Castoria (Fate/Grand Order)
Content Warnings (whole fic): Non-Con・Major Character Death
Side Pairing: Morgan x Castoria
Part 1 of the Petrichor (Time Loop) series
There's more than one way to prevent someone from becoming a threat - especially for a queen who's grown too indifferent to care about her methods. But what about her past self?
A story in which Castoria meets Tonelico before the tragic fate befell Orkney, and joins the future savior on her pilgrimage - unaware Tonelico is the future queen Morgan.
Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Character Study | Hurt/Comfort | Non-Con | Dubious Consent | Conflicted Feelings | Power Imbalance | Coercion | Submission | Captivity | Collars | Smut | Explicit Sexual Content | Orgasm Denial | Mild Elements of BDSM | First Time | Time Travel | Temporal Paradox | Time Loop | Amnesia | Training | Sparring (Magi-Match) | Found Family | Rivalry | Slow Burn | Domestic | Domestic Fluff | Bath Sex | Mana Transfer | Cunnilingus | Angst | Emotional Hurt | Doomed Timeline | Doomed Relationship | Doomed Yuri | Self-Sacrifice | Kinda Incest But Not Really | Pseudo-Incest | Castoria is 20 instead of 16 | Tonelico is 19/20 instead of 15/16 | ToneCas fic with 3 chapters of Morgan x Castoria (AO3 won’t distinguish ToneCas and MorCas so take this tag)
Through the Spirit Cave, hidden where Albion’s corpse remains, Tonelico lets her feet carry her to the Inner Sea of the Planet — to Avalon.
Each second separates her further from Artoria, whom Tonelico left behind in slumber. Perhaps it would’ve carried more mercy to end Artoria’s life rather than allow her to await the conclusion of her fate in this realm where she does not belong.
Tonelico couldn’t do that.
Powerful as she may be, having taken too many lives to count in the months since the massacre of Orkney even, Artoria’s is a life too precious.
Artoria’s death would be final; a thought too painful to bear. If, at the very least, Artoria is alive at the moment Tonelico forges the holy sword, Tonelico can cling to the hope that Artoria will not cease to exist entirely.
That some part of her, as small as a fragment, would linger. Like the colors of bricks untouched by sunlight due to the shadows cast by an insignificant object — the object itself may be removed, but proof of its existence remains.
Tonelico is perfectly aware that this is a foolish hope; one that she has no right to find solace in. Not when she betrayed Artoria in the end, and left her behind.
Being without Artoria is painful. Each second that passes mercilessly pierces Tonelico’s heart with another needle. No wound sustained by any fairy standing in her path to a bell has hurt as much as any one such prick.
With a melancholy that seeks atonement in suffering, Tonelico embraces the guilt and the pain accompanying it.
Not because it’s what she deserves — not only for that reason — but because it’s tangible proof of how much Artoria means to her. That Tonelico’s decision to save Artoria from a fate that isn’t meant to be hers is correct, even if it’s the most difficult thing she’s ever done.
“I’m sorry,” Tonelico mumbles to herself, as though those regrets could reach Artoria anymore. “I’m sorry. I’m… so sorry.”
Tonelico won’t ask for the forgiveness she knows wouldn’t be justified.
All Tonelico asks for is for Artoria to at least have a nice dream. A pleasant experience — even if delusion — to escape the hell that’s Fairy Britain, even temporarily.
What would Artoria be like if she had no burdens to carry? No scars deep in her heart, no signs on her body of a past of hardship Tonelico isn’t privy to.
Would Artoria be able to smile more often? Laugh openly, like that one time when Tonelico failed the stone skipping?
Tonelico wishes she could see that. No, if only she could see Artoria again, just one last time…
But she knows that after each gaze upon Artoria’s face, she would long for one more.
Before Tonelico can consider turning around — a decision she wouldn’t allow herself to make under any circumstances, for Artoria’s sake — she finally reaches her destination.
Avalon.
The gentle breeze and the vibrant flowers, the clear blue sky — a paradise that’s all that Fairy Britain isn’t and cannot be. Peaceful, idyllic, perfect.
Mana density higher than Tonelico would’ve imagined, a dream come true for a mage like herself. So many possibilities opened with that alone, many more with Avalon being disconnected from the laws of time and space that the outside world is bound to.
This is where Tonelico and Artoria hail from, and where the Fairy of Paradise is meant to return to at the end of her journey. The last stage of her life — existence — as an individual.
A Fairy of Paradise only exists as material after all. She lives to accumulate experiences and memories, rings the bells to gain power — only to use all of this along with herself as the basis for the holy sword meant to be forged.
Tonelico hadn’t been given a “life”, and neither had Artoria.
They have a purpose; one they should be aware of from the day of their birth, but something had gone wrong. The purpose they feel at their core naturally is to “save Britain” — bring salvation to the fairies — the means only become clearer with bells rung.
Without knowing the futility of their lives lived, Tonelico and Artoria were foolish enough to believe they could have a future.
“If you’d known… What would you have done?” Tonelico asks herself, thinking back to the Artoria who never wanted to be a Fairy of Paradise.
Nothing much would change for her. And for Tonelico, who is cursed with the memories of Pan-Human History’s Morgan, her goal wouldn’t have changed either. She would’ve defied that purpose if she’d known.
If not for Artoria, Tonelico would never return to Avalon.
… if only Artoria was here with Tonelico.
But Tonelico knows nothing good would come of Artoria’s presence here.
“Artoria is a paradox,” Tonelico reminds herself, as her fingers gently trace the petals of a pink flower. She imagines Artoria wearing it in her hair, it’d suit her. “She shouldn’t exist in this way. I can tell that Fairy Britain itself rejects her existence in this time. Avalon might not even permit her entry.”
She’s known; ever since Tonelico met Artoria, she’s been perfectly aware that her successor can’t exist simultaneously to herself.
Artoria can’t exist if Tonelico doesn’t fail.
Tonelico’s failure is averted when she gives up on Fairy Britain and forges her holy sword instead.
“… in that case…”
Now that Tonelico is removed from the time-space that forms the basis of not only the Lostbelt she’s from, but every timeline including those of Pan-Human History, she understands.
Tonelico views fragments of Artoria’s life, and fragments of her own future. Pieces of the life she’s never lived in this timeline. Only Avalon could allow to access these glimpses.
It would be impossible to see and understand every single thing, however. At least for as long as Tonelico still exists as herself.
Once she ceases her existence as a Fairy of Paradise, becoming the Avalon le Fae proper — the guardian of the holy sword forged with all she’s experienced — such a limit would no longer exist.
Tonelico would gain an understanding of the future yet unseen in any timeline that reaches it.
Vaguely, she can make out someone resembling Artoria — in a timeline removed, but connected to this same Avalon loosely enough to be seen.
An Artoria who ceased to be on her own volition, taking up the responsibility Tonelico left behind — an Artoria who’s found and accepted her destiny, and moved forward because Tonelico refused to.
Maybe that’s how it’s meant to be.
“… I can’t accept this after all,” Tonelico concludes.
Just looking at this vague silhouette she knows to be Artoria pains Tonelico too much. This isn’t how Artoria’s future should look like; it’s not a future at all.
Artoria deserves a future in which she can smile and get angry, in which she can skip stones and practice her magecraft. She deserves all that and so much more; not to be robbed of her existence as an individual to become the material for a holy sword.
Being left behind to meet erasure as a time paradox that cannot and mustn’t be is no better.
But that’s something Tonelico can make use of.
“A paradox is bad news, isn’t it? I can tell,” Tonelico states with a knowing smile, speaking to Avalon itself, and to herself. “Paradoxes shouldn’t exist. The me from Pan-Human-History already caused enough trouble.”
Fairy Britain hasn’t been on the right course anyway. Not that this has mattered; as long as this timeline reaches an end and collapses in itself, all else is irrelevant.
Be it the Morgan of Pan-Human History, Tonelico, or even any of the fairies of this Lostbelt — this world is their playground. Nobody would come to punish them. Every instance that could has given up on this failure.
That doesn’t mean that paradoxes aren’t considered a thorn still.
Destabilizing a timeline is an inconvenience no matter what — Artoria’s existence in Tonelico’s time is a little stone stuck in the shoe that’s order and stability.
“Allow me to fix this. The holy sword will be forged another time.”
It’s a gamble that Tonelico has to rely on. She doesn’t have the time to formulate a grand plan or even determine specifics.
Instinctually, Tonelico feels a pull towards the Site of Selection. Her purpose — every part of her — screams at her to finish her destiny. Bells ring in her ears, threatening to increase in volume.
If she remains in Avalon for too long, that which makes Tonelico Tonelico — her experiences and memories of her life — will be forged into the holy sword. Tonelico won’t be able to resist this pull indefinitely.
And once this process has been completed, there is no turning back.
No second chance.
No more Artoria.
“We should start again from… yes, from here,” Tonelico determines.
A memory which is not her own, but is hers — a memory of Artoria brought in front of Morgan by a tall knight she intuitively knows to be Fairy Knight Gawain — Barghest — Morgan’s right hand.
At that point, no paradox existed. Returning to that point will clean this timeline and restore stability.
If memories can be used to forge a holy sword at the Site of Selection, then Tonelico should be able to work with that.
She will make use of the Site of Selection, give her memories as material that, combined with the mana of Avalon, can turn back the hands of time. If someone can figure out a way to complete this ridiculous task, it’s Tonelico.
The forgery process is ignored and misused. Tonelico acts like a true Lostbelt fairy — selfishly skipping her job and purpose for her own desires. Maybe two wrongs can make a right eventually.
“I’m counting on you to send her back to me,” Tonelico says to the Morgan in that memory.
There’s no guarantee. Morgan won’t remember this, her time is disconnected. Tonelico can’t send any message either. She has to rely on this uncertainty for a mere chance.
Not that it would solve the problem; but Tonelico starts the process of returning to that point anyway. It’s the best chance she has; it’s at least an opportunity.
More than she’d believed possible until she’s reached Avalon.
“This only buys some time, but… I’ll find a way. I’ll give you a future, Artoria,” Tonelico swears, as she recalls the calm face of Artoria in peaceful slumber, and the excited smile whenever she’s landed a hit on Tonelico in a Magi-Match.
Fairy Britain is something Tonelico can give up on; Artoria is not.
The last thing Tonelico wants to see before she, too, returns to that day in Orkney when she’s met her successor, who shouldn’t even exist, is Artoria’s face.
Just from her memories is enough.
“And, although I know it’s selfish,” Tonelico adds with a wistful smile, “I want to share this future with you.”
Tonelico has always been selfish; she’s always prioritized what she believes to be right over everything else. Destiny and purpose meant nothing to the fairy who dreamed of an ideal nation, and it means even less to the fairy in love.
“I know I’ll find it. No matter how long it takes.”
No matter how many rules or laws it would break, no matter how much it warps space-time. No matter how much time it takes.
The downside of the new job I started is that I still come home fairly tired/exhausted most days and lack the energy to do much productive stuff (like writing); haven't quite gotten used to fulltime + more active job yet. (Remember that I used to be a software dev, aka spent all day sitting in front of screens, now I walk around quite a lot every other day)
However, the fact that at my new job I get free sweets every few days or so makes up for that entirely.
(I really do hope that I can get back into writing again in the next few days though, hnnngh....)
Chaldea Bachelorette ch1 - Ritsuka x Everyone (Fate/Grand Order)
Side Ship: Hakuno x BB (and others)
21 Servants, 1 Master - through five lily ceremonies, group activities, and private dates, a new love will be born!
Welcome to Chaldea Bachelorette! (A show by BB ft. Hakuno)
※ With Reader Votings!
Reader-Interactive | Dating Show | Alternate Universe - Reality Show | Breaking the Fourth Wall | Meta Humor | Comedy | Fate/Extra Lore & References | References to author's other fics | Sometimes "The Writer's Barely Disguised Fetish" | Eventual Smut
Also posted on: AO3
Next Chapter -> (Soon)
Ritsuka froze in an instinctual fear the moment this annoyingly cheerful tune started playing — the one that seemed to be composed specifically to mock those hearing it.
It sent a cold shiver down her spine. This was bad news, in an all too familiar way.
“That sounds like…”
BB Channel — Ritsuka didn’t dare to finish voicing her thought in fear that she would jinx herself. Not that it prevented anything.
Before Ritsuka knew it, her surroundings had suddenly changed, and she found herself in front of a luxurious mansion that could rival Morgan’s hotel, Bristin. If not for the fact that she’d been through worse and more outrageous things, this would seem crazy.
But Ritsuka, used to handling the strangest situations regardless of logic and sense, was only relieved to find something that wasn’t life-threatening. That was a nice change of pace.
Up until BB’s voice echoed into her mind directly — which also came as no surprise, given that melody was still playing, and nobody else would torment others with it.
[BB Channel… is not it this time! What, are you disappointed, Senpai?]
“… No, I’m really not,” Ritsuka muttered. Though she also wasn’t looking forward to whatever the self-proclaimed final boss AI came up with this time.
[I’ll spare our dearest viewers the long-winded explanations that nobody ever cares about. Let’s just cut to the intro right away!]
‘Viewers’ being mentioned wasn’t reassuring, but Ritsuka had no time for concern when BB had hijacked her sense of vision to display whatever ‘intro’ she probably broadcasted to some other place.
—
This summer, a most special event takes place in Chaldea! Hosted by none other than the perfectly capable BB-chan!
21 Servants — all of them clinging desperately to that one person who captured all the hearts. And right here, right now, they get their chance!
Everyone’s beloved Master, Fujimaru Ritsuka, invites those bold enough to sign up for turning their mating ritual into mass entertainment to her totally own mansion!
Who will manage to finally get through the dense girl’s thick skull and take her heart?
How many will realize they can do better?
Will our poor vict— ahem, beloved Master find her true love?
Welcome to Chaldea Bachelorette!
—
No, this was worse than any BB Channel.
“… you’re kidding, right?” Ritsuka asked in disbelief.
[Geez, are you really that stupid? You’re such a helpless Senpai, aren’t you? No wonder you need a reality TV show to finally get a girlfriend, even though you keep raising so many flags.]
The overly dramatic sigh just hurt. Actually, it added insult to injury. What brought this on, really!?
<Don’t worry, Fujimaru. I’ll make sure BB doesn’t go overboard here. She wouldn’t want to risk another Punishment Time.>
“… Kishinami!?”
<As a fellow Master of several problem children, I’m rooting for you!>
Unbelievable. That damn BB even pulled Hakuno into this mess. And she sounded like she was enjoying herself, too!
… well, it could be worse.
“… isn’t this Hawatoria…?”
[It’s the summer singularity I originally prepared before a certain someone dared to snatch it away. Luckily, I’m not holding any grudges!]
… there was certainly an edge to that voice. Ritsuka knew better than to ask. AA poked this bear, and Ritsuka really didn’t want to get into a war between Artoria Avalon and BB.
“Fine, let’s just get this over with,” Ritsuka agreed as though she had a choice. She might as well try to have fun in this mess.
[Ah, someone sure is desperate for a girlfriend, huh? Senpai, that’s so pathetic. Aren’t you embarrassed? … —ouch!]
Hakuno smacked BB for that excessive cattiness. Maybe Ritsuka could rely on Hakuno as a senpai after all. If anything, she was her best ally.
“Who signed up for this anyway, Kishinami?”
<Let’s see… They should arrive in about an hour. BB planned a grand entrance.>
Of course she did.
<Ah, by the way. You’re the only one who can hear us. It would get a little messy otherwise.>
… great.
[I hope you’re not actually planning to receive your guests in that Mystic Code, are you? Hahh, as a Senpai, you have no class. I’ll have to demote you to Master.]
What a roundabout way to state her preference for Hakuno — which was a given. Ritsuka knew she was nothing but a replacement from before Hakuno was summoned to Chaldea, and she was more than grateful to be off BB’s radar since then.
Best to ignore the commentary.
With an hour to spare, Ritsuka had just enough time to get an overview of ‘her’ mansion that BB had prepared to present Ritsuka as the star of a cheap reality TV dating show — pretending to be much richer and grander than she actually was.
When everyone involved would know better. Somehow BB’s version was more stupid than the real thing.
Hawatoria demanded a lighter Mystic Code over one suitable for combat, so Ritsuka changed into the Summer Street one she’d originally received when she first came to this singularity.
It sure was nostalgic. Thinking back to searching for clues with detective ‘Alcas’ — as Artoria Caster named herself — made Ritsuka wonder if she’d see her in this, too.
[Quite bold to change in front of the cameras, Master. If you had gone any further, that would’ve upped the rating for the show. Do you really want that to happen? Geez, what a pervert.]
Ritsuka’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, seething as she continued to ignore the Servant poking fun at her expense.
<We went with the highest rating to begin with, though. So there’s nothing to worry about. Even SGs are covered, just in case.>
“… that’s not at all reassuring!” Ritsuka exclaimed. “What side are you even on?”
[Now down the stairs. Aaaaand stop! That’s it! About time to receive your guests. Be sure to make a good impression — so best don’t be yourself!]
Ritsuka stopped in front of a suspicious summoning circle.
<Just touch any line on the summoning circle to summon the candidates one by one.>
That much was obvious, but… Whatever.
“Here goes nothing!”
Ritsuka leaned down, touched the summoning circle, and saw it light up. She was blinded for a moment.
“… Ishtar?”
“Inviting the Goddess of Beauty first, huh? As expected, you know which Servant to summon for the job.”
<Whenever I see that face, I can’t help but feel my wallet’s anger…>
[Geez, Master, what are you doing, standing around? Greet your guest and give her a key to her room already! We don’t have all day. Do you know how difficult it was to create a proper schedule?]
‘I don’t even know what’s going on here…’
That couldn’t be helped, though. Ritsuka had to play along.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, reaching out her hand for Ishtar to shake it.
A key spawned in Ishtar’s hand afterwards, and she immediately left the summoning room to head for elsewhere in the mansion, humming to herself.
Knowing Ishtar, she jumped into this for nothing but the excitement of the utter bullshit any BB project promised.
— Ishtar: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Hm? Why I signed up? It sounded like fun, that’s why! … i-it’s not at all because of Master! And I’m not here for— Ugh, you’re not seriously airing this anywhere, are you?”
—
Before BB could berate her again, Ritsuka summoned the next candidate: Barghest.
Having at least one sane (relative) Servant around was a relief.
“Thank you for having me, Master. I’m looking forward to the next days.”
“Likewise.”
[Did that fancy knight really need a female version?]
<She almost reminds me of Lip… although Lip is cuter.>
[… is that so?]
If BB wanted to sulk, she should do that outside of Ritsuka’s head.
— Barghest (Fairy Knight Gawain): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Her Majesty asked for my assistance in this ‘show’, so I had no choice but to sign up. …although the truth is I had already signed up before that…”
—
The next entrance was a surprise — one of the last Servants Ritsuka would’ve expected to get dragged into this. Jeanne Alter, who seemed even more irritated than usual.
“Uhm, welcome,” Ritsuka said.
“Yeah yeah, let’s just get this over with.”
Disinterested as Jeanne Alter looked, her unwillingness to make eye contact leaked a more genuine interest.
[Two out of three pulls are tsundere! Geez, Master. You sure have a type, don’t you? You love being bullied that much? Scary, next you’ll target me!]
<I don’t think social awkwardness alone qualifies for tsundere, though. There’s a lot more to a tsundere’s charm.>
[H-hey, Senpai!]
— Jeanne d’Arc Alter (Jalter): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I didn’t sign myself up! The cold-hearted bitch signed me up, saying I couldn’t win even if I were the only candidate. Tch. Rich of her. I signed her up, too, just so I could snatch Master in front of her. Can’t wait to see the look on her face when Master picks me.”
—
Next to arrive was Medusa — Rider — whose stoic and collected calm, even in this scenario, was a much appreciated reassurance. BB didn’t hand-pick all the insane Servants for her unasked-for show.
“Good to see you,” Ritsuka greeted the one other sane person in this mansion so far.
“I’ll do my best,” Medusa promised.
[Hmmmnnngh. I can’t say why, but seeing that woman… she feels awfully familiar.]
<Are those some memories surfacing from the original?>
[Nonsense, no way. What original are you speaking of, the White one? The model for her? None of those have anything to do with me. I surpassed them long ago, way before I’ve even been.]
<… right. Anyway, Medusa is the reliable type. You can feel at ease with her around, though… I’m not sure how well she fares in such a competition.>
[That’s exactly why I accepted her involuntary submission!]
— Medusa: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“… my sisters… They made this decision for me. Although it’s not as though I’m disinterested, but a show like this is… I’m quite out of my depth here.”
—
Like a calm followed by a storm, a normal Servant was followed by a deity/personification of a city — Tenochtitlan.
“BB did pretty well when it comes to this construction, I’ll have to admit as much,” Tenochtitlan commented.
“She does things… thoroughly, yeah.”
That was one way to put it. Maybe someone who manages a city and a health management AI were a really bad match; best Tenochtitlan and BB don’t get too close.
<Chaldea sure has interesting Servants. I wonder how Tenochtitlan would’ve done on the Moon Cell.>
[Geez, Senpai… you’re already looking for another girl? Isn’t it enough that everyone keeps falling for you because you can’t just abandon someone misunderstood and hated, even if they really try their best to push you away?]
<No need to sulk. That jealousy of yours hasn’t changed even here, huh?>
… were they just using their commentary to flirt now? The nerve of that Moon Cancer duo; not that Ritsuka’s complaints would’ve done anything.
— Tenochtitlan: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I have to ensure my priest knows where her loyalty lies, no? I can’t have any other city or person take all resources. I’m well-prepared to go to war if need be.”
—
Ereshkigal stepped out of the summoning circle, clearing her throat as she put on the fake persona meant to give her confidence that she didn’t actually possess.
“I’ve come from the underworld to answer your summom— s-summoning! You should feel honored that a goddess is willing to participate. … g-got it?”
[She totally just bit her tongue! Man, seeing someone with her face be this pathetic is a gem. How can you fumble that hard? What’s she acting like a schoolgirl in love for?]
Ritsuka hoped BB choked on that undignified laughter that stopped abruptly. Most likely a glare from Hakuno, if not a flick to her forehead.
“No need to be so tense,” Ritsuka said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Y-you are, huh? … good! That’s good. You should!”
<I haven’t thought about this before, but blonde suits Rin.>
[Huh? But that masochist is actually blonde; it’s only her avatar that isn’t.]
<Hm? Then, is this… Ah, no. It can’t be her body as a vessel. She’s a little too slim around the chest for that.>
Did Hakuno memorize girls’ measurements!? Just what did she go through?
— Ereshkigal: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“As the mistress of the underworld, it’s only natural that I’ll participate in such a competition! Although maybe this was a bad idea… Isn’t it a little depressing to have someone like me around…? W-wait, you can cut that out, right!?”
—
Luckily, another reliable face came next: the one and only Shielder class Servant, Mash.
“Senpai!”
[Tch.]
BB could be heard clicking her tongue, claiming precedence on calling out ‘Senpai’.
“Mash— You’re here, too?”
“Of course. I can’t just let you go into such a dangerous singularity by yourself,” Mash explained. “… not when it’s a singularity made by BB.”
“Thank you. I’m glad that I can always count on you.”
[Bzzzzt! Enough of this cheesy nonsense. Leave this for the actual round!]
Poor Mash was forcefully sent into her room by BB when Ritsuka didn’t end this introduction in time, before they could exchange any information.
“Was that really necessary?”
<You can’t play favorites so early into the show, Fujimaru… although I get you. The two of you are pretty close.>
[Years-in-the-friendzone close. That girl is so plain, even vanilla itself would drop her for something with more spice.]
Ritsuka gritted her teeth. She knew better than to argue with BB, who was merely butthurt over having to share her Kouhai role with someone else.
— Mash Kyrielight: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“To protect Master. BB can’t be trusted… And with how aggressive some of the Servants are on a normal day, it’s worrisome to imagine what Sen— Master would have to deal with in a reality TV dating show orchestrated by BB. … I don’t have any other motivations. It’s strictly professional.”
—
When Jeanne Alter was a surprise, seeing Jeanne herself appear in the summoning circle was an inexplicable shock.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here as a serious candidate,” Jeanne said.
“Is that so?”
… then why the heck was she here?
[So she says, but even the holy maiden must have some desires, right? There’s no way she doesn’t. Just look at that body! No way she doesn’t— Ouch!? S-Senpai, violence is forbidden! That was one of your rules!]
<A rule for the bachelorette and the candidates, not for a misbehaving host.>
[Hmph. Fine. We’ll see if I’m right! Turning this saint into the edgelord version of herself would be child’s play anyway.]
This sounded scarily as though BB had done such a thing before…
— Jeanne d’Arc: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“It’s an older sister’s job to make sure her little sister won’t get herself into trouble, right? … although Master is very kind and strong. I don’t doubt she’d make for a good girlfriend, but… No, that’s not what I’m here for.”
—
The next face was a stark reminder of what a mess this was going to be, when a too gleefully smiling Lady Avalon greeted Ritsuka. Out of everyone, she was the happiest to be here.
Which was worrying, to say the least.
“You’re here as well, huh.” Ritsuka sighed.
Not a surprise at all. In fact, it would feel awfully fitting if Lady Avalon was actively involved in this as another co-host, or the one behind this.
“It’s a shame that I didn’t think of this first,” Lady Avalon said, confirming the fears. “But this allows me to take part directly. Not a bad trade-off. What would a dating show be without a troublesome, lovable little sister?”
<I feel like I’m looking at an alternative version of BB… a what-if of sorts.>
[You really think I’m that easy to copy? She doesn’t hold a candle to an AI as advanced as me. Did she construct a whole labyrinth? Did she lock her Senpai into a special room? I don’t think so!]
<… none of those are things you should be proud of.>
Sometimes Ritsuka wanted to ask Hakuno to share stories of her own experiences as a Master — moments like this made her reconsider. The less she knew about Hakuno, the better.
— Lady Avalon: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Pretty much everyone is going for Master’s affection, no? I’m here to see if there are other lilies that could bloom. And I want to watch over Master’s struggles in the upcoming events. It’s going to be too amusing to miss out on, isn’t it?”
—
As soon as Ritsuka touched the summoning circle, lighting it up, it turned off momentarily before one of the most troublesome Servants showed her face — Sodom’s Beast, Draco.
“Fufu, here I am!”
She seriously messed with another summoning system? Was there even a point to that…?
“Couldn’t you have been summoned normally?”
“I refuse to wait for my turn. I wanted to come, so here I am. Aren’t you happy to see me, Master? What’s a beast handler without a Beast to handle?”
“… yeah, right.”
Draco’s haughtiness made the tone fly right over her head, so she took no offence to the lack of enthusiasm.
<If I ever wondered how Saber — Nero — would end up if her darkness was fed… Now I know. I can’t help but feel a little bad for her.>
[Hahh, seriously? You’re still attached to that arrogant emperor who’d never be happy with one lover alone? … well, at least she’s grown up now. Taller and less of a bottom. That’s something. Good for totally-not-Nero.]
<You think so? At the core, Draco is still Nero… so I’m pretty sure she’s just as cute on the receiving end.>
Ritsuka didn’t need to know any of that.
— Draco (Sodom’s Beast): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Don’t misunderstand — I’m not here to compete. Master is mine to begin with. But I should indulge in the desires of humanity, shouldn’t I? It’s only natural I’d be here. Everyone else is an extra.”
—
At this point, it couldn’t be much worse.
Ritsuka regretted such a foolish thought when the next Servant was summoned. The Berserker class was only one step down from Beast in terms of unpredictable threats.
“Good afternoon, Master! Those clothes really suit you. Maybe I should change into my swimsuit as well…”
Sweet and unbothered, but that was only until a switch was flipped.
“Maybe we’ll leave that for later,” Ritsuka offered.
She had no doubt BB forced some kind of swimsuit event anyway. What was worrisome was what else BB had in mind for that, and what Hakuno contributed.
[Uwaaah, scary~ You aren’t super attached to your life, are you? Or maybe it’s your taste in women that’s plain awful. Geez, Master. Please try to stay alive until the show ends at least, okay?]
<For a Berserker, Kiyohime seems pretty rational… though wasn’t it similar for Elizabeth?>
[Ah, yes. Ms. “I was crazy from the start!” who was immune to Madness Enhancement. Maybe that’s a dragon thing? Unlike an AI like me, a dragon’s brain is probably as small as a chicken’s.]
Elizabeth as a Berserker…? That sounded fitting. Ritsuka hoped that Elizabeth wasn’t involved here at least.
— Kiyohime: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“If there is such an opportunity, I cannot just leave my Anchin alone with all those other women, can I? Ah, I can almost feel the heat in my throat…”
—
[Man, wasn’t this such a drag? I didn’t know I picked all those bores from the submissions. Chaldea is such a disappointment.]
<You didn’t turn down any submissions, though, did you?>
[Master isn’t quite as popular as she’d like to think. We had to accept everyone to get enough candidates for this show. It’s so pathetic — how can you be such a wannabe-heroic Master with all those Servants and not have all of them head over heels for you?]
“… well, excuse me for not being a harem protagonist,” Ritsuka muttered.
In fact, she was glad she wasn’t one.
“Can we move on? I’ll be in this stuffy room all day otherwise.”
[How stupid are you? Geez, Master. At this exact point, we’ll have to make space for a commercial break!]
“… a what now?”
<We’re halfway done. Normally, this is great timing for a commercial break, as viewers would be too curious about the later candidates that have yet to be revealed to tune out just yet.>
“Do we actually have viewers!?”
Ritsuka’s question went unanswered, which inspired more concern. Was BB actually airing this to someone?
A BB-Channel-like jingle played, indicating that the commercial break had started. At the very least, it gave Ritsuka a break.
— COMMERCIAL BREAK —
[Don’t you hate when your whole head is a mess of all those pesky things like emotions, thoughts, regrets, and longing for connection with other human beings? As an advanced health management AI, I know that all of you pitiful humans know those struggles!
But did you know you can make it even worse?
Thanks to our sponsor, Worse Disservice, you can just say ‘screw therapy’! Instead, why won’t you talk to random people claiming to be professionals while paying an exorbitant sum for it?
And don’t you worry: All of your data will be reliably stored, sold, and stolen! Try it today, now with the code BBbestKouhai for 5% off!]
…
<I always wanted to try this… ehem. This show is sponsored by Guard Light Commons!
In the current market of mobile games that’s over-saturated by the cheapest cash grabs imaginable, why wouldn’t you want to try yet another game that makes you sink all your money into a PNG?
Gambling may be difficult to advertise, but that doesn’t go for games that employ the same mechanisms. Don’t we all need some life-ruining addiction?
Download it today and join the growing community of those trapped in sunk cost fallacy!>
…
Somehow, every commercial was worse than the last. Ritsuka would rather fully get into this reality TV nonsense than endure any more of that. She had stopped listening after two spots. At least Hakuno enjoyed herself.
—
The dragon streak wasn’t over — with the self-proclaimed strongest being leaping out of the summoning circle with the most radiant smile.
“Master! I’m here for our honeymoon!”
This wasn’t the first time Mélusine made this joke — no, rather than that, she jumped to that conclusion all on her own. Nothing but wishful thinking with an unhealthy dose of delusion.
“You’re skipping a few steps…”
[So forward, and Master is still too useless to score. Man, I almost feel bad for all those poor saps. Though if this is the girl they pursue, they deserve all the suffering and heartbreak of all their flirtations falling on deaf ears.]
<I don’t know what it is, but something makes me want to look into that one’s secrets (SGs). I just have this feeling that there’s something really interesting there.>
[Uwah, Senpai! That look in your eyes is so scary~]
<Ah, don’t worry. It was just a stray thought.>
Hakuno’s perception was terrifying. Morgan had threatened Mélusine into compliance more than once by claiming she would reveal her secret to everyone. Really, what was this secret?
— Mélusine (Fairy Knight Lancelot): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“It’s all about spending time with my lover in a big mansion, isn’t it? That’s practically a honeymoon! I’m so happy Master prepared all that for us.”
—
Whether BB had laid out the order beforehand and had intended for this, or it was nothing but a consequence of Mélusine’s proclamations — Morgan was next to appear.
If she was bothered, she hardly showed it; not that this was any different from the usual.
“You’re late, my wife,” Morgan stated with mild irritation. “I know this to be one of your unfavorable characteristics, but I expect you to correct this in the future.”
“I’m sorry, Morgan.” Ritsuka tried to ease the tension with a smile. “You came yourself, too, huh?”
“Of course. I cannot leave this task to my Fairy Knights alone.”
Yep, that tracked.
[Kyaaa~ That voice… I can’t believe it, that woman almost sounds like Senpai!?]
<Huh? Is that so?>
[Yes, definitely! You can trust me on that. All my computing power goes into comparing every single person to Senpai. I wouldn’t be wrong about this kind of thing!]
<…>
— Morgan: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I don’t understand the point of this question. As my wife, Master belongs to me. Naturally, I would be present to properly claim her.”
—
The feeling of déjà-vu from the original Hawatoria aside, the following summoning brought a breath of fresh air; or rather, a storm.
“Heya, Master! How’re the summonings going? Found your fav yet?”
Lilith promised more trouble than any other Servant, especially with Mash being here. This damn BB… She set it up on purpose, didn’t she?
“Whoa, that look on your face. I’ll keep my distance from her, alright? Enough of a distance to watch her mess up at least.”
“Just… just don’t overdo it, okay?”
“Got it, got it!”
[How bold, Master! Just giving such a troublemaker permission to follow her whims ‘within limits’? Not even drawing any lines? Do you have any idea how little that means? Sure you don’t! As if you could think that far ahead.]
<No, she seemed rather genuine to me. I don’t think she’ll cause too much disruption.>
[Hmmn, if Senpai says so… But, are you sure?]
<Call it a protagonist’s intuition. I know her type.>
“I hope you’re right…”
— Lilith: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Why wouldn’t I? C’mon, look at it! I get to spend some fun summer break with Master and watch Kyrielight get outdone by literally every other Servant. BB is a pain, but she knows how to have fun.”
—
Ritsuka internally prayed for someone less troublesome, only to be met with yet another Berserker… more or less.
“… Alcas!?”
She really was here! A Berserker like the last two, although she hardly changed when her class did, so it didn’t matter. For some reason, she showed up in her swimsuit-street-wear getup.
“Hawatoria calls for master detective Alcas, doesn’t it? Count on me to solve all the cases!”
[Does that one have brain damage? What kind of show does she think this is?]
How badly Ritsuka wanted to tell BB to shut up.
<Her name is Caster, but she’s a Berserker? Well, after Launcher class, I don’t think anything could surprise me anymore.>
[I know, right? What kind of crazy dumbass would make up a new class out of nowhere?]
<… remind me again about the ‘Moon Cancer’ class.>
[T-That is…! Geez, Senpai! Almost got me there. They can’t even be compared, can they? Moon Cancer was properly adopted, but we never heard of another Launcher, now did we?]
Ritsuka didn’t even want to know what they were talking about. Once more, the two Moon Cancers were in their own world. Maybe they’d be happier still on the moon. Ritsuka would be much happier if the two of them were there.
— Artoria Caster (Alcas): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Well, that is… you see… I-I’m a Berserker, so!! I don’t even remember why. I felt like it at the moment! … ahaha…”
—
With excitement, Kukulkan stepped out of the summoning circle. She took in the surroundings of this unimpressive summoning room — at least compared to the rest of the mansion — with genuine, almost child-like, wonder.
“They really went all the way to prepare this, huh? Hey-yo, Master! I didn’t make you wait, did I?”
Kukulkan here could be either reassuring or… no, really, it was more of a threat to this singularity than anything. That Servant didn’t really understand her grand powers sometimes.
“No, don’t worry. Enjoy yourself,” Ritsuka said. Not that Kukulkan needed to be told.
[Do all deities have more than a few screws loose? Seriously, I’m seeing a trend here. It’s no wonder my Alter Egos turned out the way they did. With such a basis, they could only be useless fools no matter how well I did crafting them.]
<They both still have their cute sides, though. Besides, I’m not sure if the ‘deity’ part is the root of their issues in the first place.>
[… hey, Senpai. Just what are you implying there?]
“That was more than just an implication…” Ritsuka added.
The true source of the messed-up personalities of Passionlip and Meltryllis was more than obvious. They did share one common denominator after all.
[Well, I can say for sure that if they took more after me, they would be flawlessly perfect AIs! Not the type of AI that throws out senseless junk and slop with the imagination of a wet paper towel, of course!]
Sure.
— Kukulkan: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I’ve only heard of reality TV shows before. It’s so exciting that Chaldea has its own! I really want to know what it’s like! And Master is the prize, right?”
—
Brimming with confidence that was as frail as a broken vase, Huyan Zhuo was summoned.
“The always reliable, beautiful, irresistible, beloved Huyan Zhuo has appeared! Aren’t you happy, Master? Y-you can praise me just a little bit for this entry, you know!”
“You looked really cool there.”
Ritsuka knew better than to withhold praise when Huyan Zhuo already pleaded for it. She wouldn’t risk her most reliable Assassin dying on the spot from a lack of validation.
[This woman is so pathetic. Her entire existence screams ‘Kill me’… Geez, whoever came up with her was a seriously cruel sadist. Imagine being so dependent on what someone else thinks of you.]
<I remember someone who backed down very immediately after being told, ‘Listen to your senpai’.>
[Aaaaaah! Senpai, shush! Shut up! You can’t just reveal my dark history to the world like that!]
<Maybe you have some empusa in your data, too?>
— Huyan Zhuo: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“This is a competition for Master’s affection. So, if Master chooses me, then she must value me above all other Servants. The ultimate proof of how capable and strong and cool and skilled I am. … although… if… if Master doesn’t… choose me, then… uuuuuh gulp… n-no way, she wouldn’t choose someone else over me, right!?”
—
After a silent prayer, Ritsuka proceeded with the next summoning. She would be done soon; she couldn’t wait to get this over with. The rest would remain as a problem for her future self.
To her relieved surprise, a non-problematic, fully reliable Servant showed her face next: Artoria Pendragon.
“Master, I have answered your summons. I hope you are well?”
Perhaps the irritation showed on Ritsuka’s face, or Artoria knew well enough what stress this idiotic ‘show’ caused to her Master.
“So far I’m fine,” Ritsuka answered.
“As your sword, I will make sure it stays that way.”
This would be relieving — if not for the fact that even Artoria’s influence was too limited to guarantee that.
[Master really hit those 1:4096 odds and got a blue Nero, huh? How impressive! I wonder, how many hours of attempts did that take you for a mere color swap?]
<They’re fundamentally different, though. The hair, the eyes, voice, and their bodies… Well, I don’t need to say more.>
[Ah, of course Senpai would pick up on all such subtleties nobody else would even notice! When it comes to women, Senpai sure knows where to look, huh? By which I mean, Senpai has quite the strong libido, which explains all the douji— Ow!! S-Senpai!]
<Ehem. Though she does resemble the other Artoria, doesn’t she? The self-proclaimed master detective.>
[Hmm, sure. They have the same face, the same body… Though one has all the confidence and grace while the other got… What did she have again?]
— Artoria Pendragon: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“It seemed unwise to leave Master alone in this trap. I will ensure she returns unscathed. On my honor as a knight, I will claim victory in this competition and protect the one I have sworn my loyalty as a Servant to.”
—
As though she had a sixth sense for Artoria’s presence, Mordred was next to appear. Realistically, it was more likely that BB decided on that order for this exact purpose.
“What, you surprised to see me?”
“No, not really.” Ritsuka scratched her cheek. She knew better than to mention that seeing Mordred follow Artoria could never be a surprise; she liked to keep her head on her shoulders. “I just didn’t think you’d be interested in this sort of thing.”
“Because I’m not,” Mordred said. “But if father— No. Just know I’m not going to back down here!”
[Hooooly daddy issues… Is her whole life a temper tantrum? How could someone fail that hard at raising their child? Uwah, that other Morgan sure has issues! No wonder she’s not showing her face around here.]
<Aren’t you exaggerating quite a bit, BB? Looking at Meltryllis and Passionlip… Are you really one to talk?>
[H-hey! Those two aren’t my children, though! And I haven’t committed incest to create them either! Don’t put me on the level of that witch. I’m ages ahead of such crude methods.]
<You sure know a lot about this one…>
[Naturally I’d look into every Servant with a connection to Senpai! Be it in this world, in another, or in one abandoned and forgotten by history itself. … though, I wonder, why do you have such an affinity for Saber class Servants? Hmmmnnn. Maybe I should do a class change.]
Three versions of BB were three more than were needed. A BB-flavored Christmas? Or Halloween? Ritsuka shuddered at the thought.
If Hakuno wanted this, she should volunteer to take care of the resulting mess herself. Come to think of it, Hakuno should be the ‘bachelorette’ here in the first place!
— Mordred: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I couldn’t care less about this whole bachelorette and dating stuff. I’m Master’s knight to begin with; there’s nothing more to prove my loyalty. But if there’s a competition, I’m gonna take it all!”
—
With Artoria Alter — hopefully the final Artoria of the day — another Saber class Servant joined the cast of candidates. Not that even half of the Artorias of Chaldea were present…
“You took your sweet time, Master.”
“I’m not the one who has any influence over the order here… or anything,” Ritsuka said.
“Of course not.”
<Saber… She may seem cold on the surface, but she’s extremely reliable. I don’t know her, but… Some part of me just knows. How strange.>
[Think this might be your original’s memories leaking in, Senpai? No way, you weren’t involved in a Grail War on earth, were you!?]
<… how would I know?>
[Right, right! The classic amnesiac protagonist. Well, I’m not one to throw around spoilers, but I can assure you that it’s unrelated to your earth self.]
<You did mention you keep track of Servants connected to me, so that one… No, I don’t need to know more right now.>
[Good choice. All you need to know is that she’s a stubborn, selfish, edgelord prick with a horrible taste in women. I really messed up there.]
Once more, Ritsuka was out of the loop, though it seemed Hakuno shared that fate this time.
— Artoria Pendragon Alter (Salter): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“To show the pyromaniac her place. I can’t wait to see her try and approach Master. Also, the food at these things is usually good, right?”
—
Only one candidate was left until Ritsuka could — hopefully — call it a day and leave dealing with the resulting messes to her future self.
She took a deep breath and got it over with — summoning a final Servant that looked like Artoria, but wasn’t one.
“Good evening, Master,” Tonelico said with a smile.
Rain Witch appearing over Savior promised less danger; at least so it felt. Though Morgan’s words echoed in Ritsuka’s mind, that Tonelico was still the same as Morgan herself at the core.
“You’re here as well?”
“I suppose it must seem a little confusing, right? Morgan is already here, after all. But I’m not her, so… You know. Like this, I’m simply Tonelico, a witch from the Land of Rain.”
“That’s true,” Ritsuka agreed.
Even if they were the same person technically, Tonelico and Morgan were separate individuals (somehow), the same way Artoria Caster and Artoria Avalon were ever since Hawatoria (somehow).
<… BB? You’re rather quiet. Do you need a restart to finalize some updates?>
[I’m not some cheap OS!! No, I was just… She really sounds just like you, Senpai! I almost thought my hearing was bugged.]
<Well, she appears to be another version of Morgan from earlier, so it’s a given she’d have the same voice.>
[It’s not just the same voice. It’s Senpai’s voice! And she seems just as kindhearted as Senpai, too! I’m sure she must be just as much of a secret pervert as well! With crazy high libido!]
<…>
The sounds BB made were nothing but pitiful, but it felt well-deserved. Ritsuka would have to thank Hakuno for dishing out justice later.
Well, knowing Hakuno, she probably merely pulled BB’s cheeks with a chilling smile until the AI groveled and apologized. Not that she’d broadcast that; it would ruin her final boss image.
— Tonelico: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“… that’s a secret. You wouldn’t expect a witch to share all her secrets, would you?”
—
After all of it was done — finally — Ritsuka carried herself back to what was her room. She was assured that none of the Servants could break into it, no matter what they did, so Ritsuka was granted a proper night’s rest at the very least.
[Rest well, Master~ Tomorrow the real fun will start!]
“What do you have planned…?”
[I said it before, didn’t I? I wouldn’t just spoil things! It’s best to experience it live.]
Ritsuka sighed. Luckily, Hakuno was more willing to be supportive.
<Tomorrow is the start of Round 1. We’ll start with some group activity so the candidates can show off their good sides to woo you. After that, we’ll set you up with a few private dates in the following days.>
“… dates, huh?”
Those weren’t going to be serious dates, right? Not the romantic type you’d have with someone you like. It was all just for show, after all.
I'm not going to post about the poll results while they're still on-going because I don't want the current state to influence votings buuuut the current favorite is a little bit surprising to me?
I do like her, sure, but I didn't expect her to be favored that much. Same goes for another character. That's super interesting to see.
Also, I'm getting more votes in than I thought (and feared lol), which is awesome! This fic concept would kind of fail without votes, so that's reassuring.
If you've read the first chapter but haven't voted yet - feel free to do so!
▶︎ Lily Poll - vote for your favorite candidate(s) to receive a lily and move into the next round!
▶︎ Date Poll - vote for your favorite candidate(s) to get a date with Ritsuka in this round!
Chaldea Bachelorette ch1 - Ritsuka x Everyone (Fate/Grand Order)
Side Ship: Hakuno x BB (and others)
21 Servants, 1 Master - through five lily ceremonies, group activities, and private dates, a new love will be born!
Welcome to Chaldea Bachelorette! (A show by BB ft. Hakuno)
※ With Reader Votings!
Reader-Interactive | Dating Show | Alternate Universe - Reality Show | Breaking the Fourth Wall | Meta Humor | Comedy | Fate/Extra Lore & References | References to author's other fics | Sometimes "The Writer's Barely Disguised Fetish" | Eventual Smut
Also posted on: AO3
Next Chapter -> (Soon)
Ritsuka froze in an instinctual fear the moment this annoyingly cheerful tune started playing — the one that seemed to be composed specifically to mock those hearing it.
It sent a cold shiver down her spine. This was bad news, in an all too familiar way.
“That sounds like…”
BB Channel — Ritsuka didn’t dare to finish voicing her thought in fear that she would jinx herself. Not that it prevented anything.
Before Ritsuka knew it, her surroundings had suddenly changed, and she found herself in front of a luxurious mansion that could rival Morgan’s hotel, Bristin. If not for the fact that she’d been through worse and more outrageous things, this would seem crazy.
But Ritsuka, used to handling the strangest situations regardless of logic and sense, was only relieved to find something that wasn’t life-threatening. That was a nice change of pace.
Up until BB’s voice echoed into her mind directly — which also came as no surprise, given that melody was still playing, and nobody else would torment others with it.
[BB Channel… is not it this time! What, are you disappointed, Senpai?]
“… No, I’m really not,” Ritsuka muttered. Though she also wasn’t looking forward to whatever the self-proclaimed final boss AI came up with this time.
[I’ll spare our dearest viewers the long-winded explanations that nobody ever cares about. Let’s just cut to the intro right away!]
‘Viewers’ being mentioned wasn’t reassuring, but Ritsuka had no time for concern when BB had hijacked her sense of vision to display whatever ‘intro’ she probably broadcasted to some other place.
—
This summer, a most special event takes place in Chaldea! Hosted by none other than the perfectly capable BB-chan!
21 Servants — all of them clinging desperately to that one person who captured all the hearts. And right here, right now, they get their chance!
Everyone’s beloved Master, Fujimaru Ritsuka, invites those bold enough to sign up for turning their mating ritual into mass entertainment to her totally own mansion!
Who will manage to finally get through the dense girl’s thick skull and take her heart?
How many will realize they can do better?
Will our poor vict— ahem, beloved Master find her true love?
Welcome to Chaldea Bachelorette!
—
No, this was worse than any BB Channel.
“… you’re kidding, right?” Ritsuka asked in disbelief.
[Geez, are you really that stupid? You’re such a helpless Senpai, aren’t you? No wonder you need a reality TV show to finally get a girlfriend, even though you keep raising so many flags.]
The overly dramatic sigh just hurt. Actually, it added insult to injury. What brought this on, really!?
<Don’t worry, Fujimaru. I’ll make sure BB doesn’t go overboard here. She wouldn’t want to risk another Punishment Time.>
“… Kishinami!?”
<As a fellow Master of several problem children, I’m rooting for you!>
Unbelievable. That damn BB even pulled Hakuno into this mess. And she sounded like she was enjoying herself, too!
… well, it could be worse.
“… isn’t this Hawatoria…?”
[It’s the summer singularity I originally prepared before a certain someone dared to snatch it away. Luckily, I’m not holding any grudges!]
… there was certainly an edge to that voice. Ritsuka knew better than to ask. AA poked this bear, and Ritsuka really didn’t want to get into a war between Artoria Avalon and BB.
“Fine, let’s just get this over with,” Ritsuka agreed as though she had a choice. She might as well try to have fun in this mess.
[Ah, someone sure is desperate for a girlfriend, huh? Senpai, that’s so pathetic. Aren’t you embarrassed? … —ouch!]
Hakuno smacked BB for that excessive cattiness. Maybe Ritsuka could rely on Hakuno as a senpai after all. If anything, she was her best ally.
“Who signed up for this anyway, Kishinami?”
<Let’s see… They should arrive in about an hour. BB planned a grand entrance.>
Of course she did.
<Ah, by the way. You’re the only one who can hear us. It would get a little messy otherwise.>
… great.
[I hope you’re not actually planning to receive your guests in that Mystic Code, are you? Hahh, as a Senpai, you have no class. I’ll have to demote you to Master.]
What a roundabout way to state her preference for Hakuno — which was a given. Ritsuka knew she was nothing but a replacement from before Hakuno was summoned to Chaldea, and she was more than grateful to be off BB’s radar since then.
Best to ignore the commentary.
With an hour to spare, Ritsuka had just enough time to get an overview of ‘her’ mansion that BB had prepared to present Ritsuka as the star of a cheap reality TV dating show — pretending to be much richer and grander than she actually was.
When everyone involved would know better. Somehow BB’s version was more stupid than the real thing.
Hawatoria demanded a lighter Mystic Code over one suitable for combat, so Ritsuka changed into the Summer Street one she’d originally received when she first came to this singularity.
It sure was nostalgic. Thinking back to searching for clues with detective ‘Alcas’ — as Artoria Caster named herself — made Ritsuka wonder if she’d see her in this, too.
[Quite bold to change in front of the cameras, Master. If you had gone any further, that would’ve upped the rating for the show. Do you really want that to happen? Geez, what a pervert.]
Ritsuka’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, seething as she continued to ignore the Servant poking fun at her expense.
<We went with the highest rating to begin with, though. So there’s nothing to worry about. Even SGs are covered, just in case.>
“… that’s not at all reassuring!” Ritsuka exclaimed. “What side are you even on?”
[Now down the stairs. Aaaaand stop! That’s it! About time to receive your guests. Be sure to make a good impression — so best don’t be yourself!]
Ritsuka stopped in front of a suspicious summoning circle.
<Just touch any line on the summoning circle to summon the candidates one by one.>
That much was obvious, but… Whatever.
“Here goes nothing!”
Ritsuka leaned down, touched the summoning circle, and saw it light up. She was blinded for a moment.
“… Ishtar?”
“Inviting the Goddess of Beauty first, huh? As expected, you know which Servant to summon for the job.”
<Whenever I see that face, I can’t help but feel my wallet’s anger…>
[Geez, Master, what are you doing, standing around? Greet your guest and give her a key to her room already! We don’t have all day. Do you know how difficult it was to create a proper schedule?]
‘I don’t even know what’s going on here…’
That couldn’t be helped, though. Ritsuka had to play along.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, reaching out her hand for Ishtar to shake it.
A key spawned in Ishtar’s hand afterwards, and she immediately left the summoning room to head for elsewhere in the mansion, humming to herself.
Knowing Ishtar, she jumped into this for nothing but the excitement of the utter bullshit any BB project promised.
— Ishtar: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Hm? Why I signed up? It sounded like fun, that’s why! … i-it’s not at all because of Master! And I’m not here for— Ugh, you’re not seriously airing this anywhere, are you?”
—
Before BB could berate her again, Ritsuka summoned the next candidate: Barghest.
Having at least one sane (relative) Servant around was a relief.
“Thank you for having me, Master. I’m looking forward to the next days.”
“Likewise.”
[Did that fancy knight really need a female version?]
<She almost reminds me of Lip… although Lip is cuter.>
[… is that so?]
If BB wanted to sulk, she should do that outside of Ritsuka’s head.
— Barghest (Fairy Knight Gawain): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Her Majesty asked for my assistance in this ‘show’, so I had no choice but to sign up. …although the truth is I had already signed up before that…”
—
The next entrance was a surprise — one of the last Servants Ritsuka would’ve expected to get dragged into this. Jeanne Alter, who seemed even more irritated than usual.
“Uhm, welcome,” Ritsuka said.
“Yeah yeah, let’s just get this over with.”
Disinterested as Jeanne Alter looked, her unwillingness to make eye contact leaked a more genuine interest.
[Two out of three pulls are tsundere! Geez, Master. You sure have a type, don’t you? You love being bullied that much? Scary, next you’ll target me!]
<I don’t think social awkwardness alone qualifies for tsundere, though. There’s a lot more to a tsundere’s charm.>
[H-hey, Senpai!]
— Jeanne d’Arc Alter (Jalter): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I didn’t sign myself up! The cold-hearted bitch signed me up, saying I couldn’t win even if I were the only candidate. Tch. Rich of her. I signed her up, too, just so I could snatch Master in front of her. Can’t wait to see the look on her face when Master picks me.”
—
Next to arrive was Medusa — Rider — whose stoic and collected calm, even in this scenario, was a much appreciated reassurance. BB didn’t hand-pick all the insane Servants for her unasked-for show.
“Good to see you,” Ritsuka greeted the one other sane person in this mansion so far.
“I’ll do my best,” Medusa promised.
[Hmmmnnngh. I can’t say why, but seeing that woman… she feels awfully familiar.]
<Are those some memories surfacing from the original?>
[Nonsense, no way. What original are you speaking of, the White one? The model for her? None of those have anything to do with me. I surpassed them long ago, way before I’ve even been.]
<… right. Anyway, Medusa is the reliable type. You can feel at ease with her around, though… I’m not sure how well she fares in such a competition.>
[That’s exactly why I accepted her involuntary submission!]
— Medusa: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“… my sisters… They made this decision for me. Although it’s not as though I’m disinterested, but a show like this is… I’m quite out of my depth here.”
—
Like a calm followed by a storm, a normal Servant was followed by a deity/personification of a city — Tenochtitlan.
“BB did pretty well when it comes to this construction, I’ll have to admit as much,” Tenochtitlan commented.
“She does things… thoroughly, yeah.”
That was one way to put it. Maybe someone who manages a city and a health management AI were a really bad match; best Tenochtitlan and BB don’t get too close.
<Chaldea sure has interesting Servants. I wonder how Tenochtitlan would’ve done on the Moon Cell.>
[Geez, Senpai… you’re already looking for another girl? Isn’t it enough that everyone keeps falling for you because you can’t just abandon someone misunderstood and hated, even if they really try their best to push you away?]
<No need to sulk. That jealousy of yours hasn’t changed even here, huh?>
… were they just using their commentary to flirt now? The nerve of that Moon Cancer duo; not that Ritsuka’s complaints would’ve done anything.
— Tenochtitlan: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I have to ensure my priest knows where her loyalty lies, no? I can’t have any other city or person take all resources. I’m well-prepared to go to war if need be.”
—
Ereshkigal stepped out of the summoning circle, clearing her throat as she put on the fake persona meant to give her confidence that she didn’t actually possess.
“I’ve come from the underworld to answer your summom— s-summoning! You should feel honored that a goddess is willing to participate. … g-got it?”
[She totally just bit her tongue! Man, seeing someone with her face be this pathetic is a gem. How can you fumble that hard? What’s she acting like a schoolgirl in love for?]
Ritsuka hoped BB choked on that undignified laughter that stopped abruptly. Most likely a glare from Hakuno, if not a flick to her forehead.
“No need to be so tense,” Ritsuka said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Y-you are, huh? … good! That’s good. You should!”
<I haven’t thought about this before, but blonde suits Rin.>
[Huh? But that masochist is actually blonde; it’s only her avatar that isn’t.]
<Hm? Then, is this… Ah, no. It can’t be her body as a vessel. She’s a little too slim around the chest for that.>
Did Hakuno memorize girls’ measurements!? Just what did she go through?
— Ereshkigal: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“As the mistress of the underworld, it’s only natural that I’ll participate in such a competition! Although maybe this was a bad idea… Isn’t it a little depressing to have someone like me around…? W-wait, you can cut that out, right!?”
—
Luckily, another reliable face came next: the one and only Shielder class Servant, Mash.
“Senpai!”
[Tch.]
BB could be heard clicking her tongue, claiming precedence on calling out ‘Senpai’.
“Mash— You’re here, too?”
“Of course. I can’t just let you go into such a dangerous singularity by yourself,” Mash explained. “… not when it’s a singularity made by BB.”
“Thank you. I’m glad that I can always count on you.”
[Bzzzzt! Enough of this cheesy nonsense. Leave this for the actual round!]
Poor Mash was forcefully sent into her room by BB when Ritsuka didn’t end this introduction in time, before they could exchange any information.
“Was that really necessary?”
<You can’t play favorites so early into the show, Fujimaru… although I get you. The two of you are pretty close.>
[Years-in-the-friendzone close. That girl is so plain, even vanilla itself would drop her for something with more spice.]
Ritsuka gritted her teeth. She knew better than to argue with BB, who was merely butthurt over having to share her Kouhai role with someone else.
— Mash Kyrielight: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“To protect Master. BB can’t be trusted… And with how aggressive some of the Servants are on a normal day, it’s worrisome to imagine what Sen— Master would have to deal with in a reality TV dating show orchestrated by BB. … I don’t have any other motivations. It’s strictly professional.”
—
When Jeanne Alter was a surprise, seeing Jeanne herself appear in the summoning circle was an inexplicable shock.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here as a serious candidate,” Jeanne said.
“Is that so?”
… then why the heck was she here?
[So she says, but even the holy maiden must have some desires, right? There’s no way she doesn’t. Just look at that body! No way she doesn’t— Ouch!? S-Senpai, violence is forbidden! That was one of your rules!]
<A rule for the bachelorette and the candidates, not for a misbehaving host.>
[Hmph. Fine. We’ll see if I’m right! Turning this saint into the edgelord version of herself would be child’s play anyway.]
This sounded scarily as though BB had done such a thing before…
— Jeanne d’Arc: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“It’s an older sister’s job to make sure her little sister won’t get herself into trouble, right? … although Master is very kind and strong. I don’t doubt she’d make for a good girlfriend, but… No, that’s not what I’m here for.”
—
The next face was a stark reminder of what a mess this was going to be, when a too gleefully smiling Lady Avalon greeted Ritsuka. Out of everyone, she was the happiest to be here.
Which was worrying, to say the least.
“You’re here as well, huh.” Ritsuka sighed.
Not a surprise at all. In fact, it would feel awfully fitting if Lady Avalon was actively involved in this as another co-host, or the one behind this.
“It’s a shame that I didn’t think of this first,” Lady Avalon said, confirming the fears. “But this allows me to take part directly. Not a bad trade-off. What would a dating show be without a troublesome, lovable little sister?”
<I feel like I’m looking at an alternative version of BB… a what-if of sorts.>
[You really think I’m that easy to copy? She doesn’t hold a candle to an AI as advanced as me. Did she construct a whole labyrinth? Did she lock her Senpai into a special room? I don’t think so!]
<… none of those are things you should be proud of.>
Sometimes Ritsuka wanted to ask Hakuno to share stories of her own experiences as a Master — moments like this made her reconsider. The less she knew about Hakuno, the better.
— Lady Avalon: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Pretty much everyone is going for Master’s affection, no? I’m here to see if there are other lilies that could bloom. And I want to watch over Master’s struggles in the upcoming events. It’s going to be too amusing to miss out on, isn’t it?”
—
As soon as Ritsuka touched the summoning circle, lighting it up, it turned off momentarily before one of the most troublesome Servants showed her face — Sodom’s Beast, Draco.
“Fufu, here I am!”
She seriously messed with another summoning system? Was there even a point to that…?
“Couldn’t you have been summoned normally?”
“I refuse to wait for my turn. I wanted to come, so here I am. Aren’t you happy to see me, Master? What’s a beast handler without a Beast to handle?”
“… yeah, right.”
Draco’s haughtiness made the tone fly right over her head, so she took no offence to the lack of enthusiasm.
<If I ever wondered how Saber — Nero — would end up if her darkness was fed… Now I know. I can’t help but feel a little bad for her.>
[Hahh, seriously? You’re still attached to that arrogant emperor who’d never be happy with one lover alone? … well, at least she’s grown up now. Taller and less of a bottom. That’s something. Good for totally-not-Nero.]
<You think so? At the core, Draco is still Nero… so I’m pretty sure she’s just as cute on the receiving end.>
Ritsuka didn’t need to know any of that.
— Draco (Sodom’s Beast): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Don’t misunderstand — I’m not here to compete. Master is mine to begin with. But I should indulge in the desires of humanity, shouldn’t I? It’s only natural I’d be here. Everyone else is an extra.”
—
At this point, it couldn’t be much worse.
Ritsuka regretted such a foolish thought when the next Servant was summoned. The Berserker class was only one step down from Beast in terms of unpredictable threats.
“Good afternoon, Master! Those clothes really suit you. Maybe I should change into my swimsuit as well…”
Sweet and unbothered, but that was only until a switch was flipped.
“Maybe we’ll leave that for later,” Ritsuka offered.
She had no doubt BB forced some kind of swimsuit event anyway. What was worrisome was what else BB had in mind for that, and what Hakuno contributed.
[Uwaaah, scary~ You aren’t super attached to your life, are you? Or maybe it’s your taste in women that’s plain awful. Geez, Master. Please try to stay alive until the show ends at least, okay?]
<For a Berserker, Kiyohime seems pretty rational… though wasn’t it similar for Elizabeth?>
[Ah, yes. Ms. “I was crazy from the start!” who was immune to Madness Enhancement. Maybe that’s a dragon thing? Unlike an AI like me, a dragon’s brain is probably as small as a chicken’s.]
Elizabeth as a Berserker…? That sounded fitting. Ritsuka hoped that Elizabeth wasn’t involved here at least.
— Kiyohime: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“If there is such an opportunity, I cannot just leave my Anchin alone with all those other women, can I? Ah, I can almost feel the heat in my throat…”
—
[Man, wasn’t this such a drag? I didn’t know I picked all those bores from the submissions. Chaldea is such a disappointment.]
<You didn’t turn down any submissions, though, did you?>
[Master isn’t quite as popular as she’d like to think. We had to accept everyone to get enough candidates for this show. It’s so pathetic — how can you be such a wannabe-heroic Master with all those Servants and not have all of them head over heels for you?]
“… well, excuse me for not being a harem protagonist,” Ritsuka muttered.
In fact, she was glad she wasn’t one.
“Can we move on? I’ll be in this stuffy room all day otherwise.”
[How stupid are you? Geez, Master. At this exact point, we’ll have to make space for a commercial break!]
“… a what now?”
<We’re halfway done. Normally, this is great timing for a commercial break, as viewers would be too curious about the later candidates that have yet to be revealed to tune out just yet.>
“Do we actually have viewers!?”
Ritsuka’s question went unanswered, which inspired more concern. Was BB actually airing this to someone?
A BB-Channel-like jingle played, indicating that the commercial break had started. At the very least, it gave Ritsuka a break.
— COMMERCIAL BREAK —
[Don’t you hate when your whole head is a mess of all those pesky things like emotions, thoughts, regrets, and longing for connection with other human beings? As an advanced health management AI, I know that all of you pitiful humans know those struggles!
But did you know you can make it even worse?
Thanks to our sponsor, Worse Disservice, you can just say ‘screw therapy’! Instead, why won’t you talk to random people claiming to be professionals while paying an exorbitant sum for it?
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…
<I always wanted to try this… ehem. This show is sponsored by Guard Light Commons!
In the current market of mobile games that’s over-saturated by the cheapest cash grabs imaginable, why wouldn’t you want to try yet another game that makes you sink all your money into a PNG?
Gambling may be difficult to advertise, but that doesn’t go for games that employ the same mechanisms. Don’t we all need some life-ruining addiction?
Download it today and join the growing community of those trapped in sunk cost fallacy!>
…
Somehow, every commercial was worse than the last. Ritsuka would rather fully get into this reality TV nonsense than endure any more of that. She had stopped listening after two spots. At least Hakuno enjoyed herself.
—
The dragon streak wasn’t over — with the self-proclaimed strongest being leaping out of the summoning circle with the most radiant smile.
“Master! I’m here for our honeymoon!”
This wasn’t the first time Mélusine made this joke — no, rather than that, she jumped to that conclusion all on her own. Nothing but wishful thinking with an unhealthy dose of delusion.
“You’re skipping a few steps…”
[So forward, and Master is still too useless to score. Man, I almost feel bad for all those poor saps. Though if this is the girl they pursue, they deserve all the suffering and heartbreak of all their flirtations falling on deaf ears.]
<I don’t know what it is, but something makes me want to look into that one’s secrets (SGs). I just have this feeling that there’s something really interesting there.>
[Uwah, Senpai! That look in your eyes is so scary~]
<Ah, don’t worry. It was just a stray thought.>
Hakuno’s perception was terrifying. Morgan had threatened Mélusine into compliance more than once by claiming she would reveal her secret to everyone. Really, what was this secret?
— Mélusine (Fairy Knight Lancelot): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“It’s all about spending time with my lover in a big mansion, isn’t it? That’s practically a honeymoon! I’m so happy Master prepared all that for us.”
—
Whether BB had laid out the order beforehand and had intended for this, or it was nothing but a consequence of Mélusine’s proclamations — Morgan was next to appear.
If she was bothered, she hardly showed it; not that this was any different from the usual.
“You’re late, my wife,” Morgan stated with mild irritation. “I know this to be one of your unfavorable characteristics, but I expect you to correct this in the future.”
“I’m sorry, Morgan.” Ritsuka tried to ease the tension with a smile. “You came yourself, too, huh?”
“Of course. I cannot leave this task to my Fairy Knights alone.”
Yep, that tracked.
[Kyaaa~ That voice… I can’t believe it, that woman almost sounds like Senpai!?]
<Huh? Is that so?>
[Yes, definitely! You can trust me on that. All my computing power goes into comparing every single person to Senpai. I wouldn’t be wrong about this kind of thing!]
<…>
— Morgan: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I don’t understand the point of this question. As my wife, Master belongs to me. Naturally, I would be present to properly claim her.”
—
The feeling of déjà-vu from the original Hawatoria aside, the following summoning brought a breath of fresh air; or rather, a storm.
“Heya, Master! How’re the summonings going? Found your fav yet?”
Lilith promised more trouble than any other Servant, especially with Mash being here. This damn BB… She set it up on purpose, didn’t she?
“Whoa, that look on your face. I’ll keep my distance from her, alright? Enough of a distance to watch her mess up at least.”
“Just… just don’t overdo it, okay?”
“Got it, got it!”
[How bold, Master! Just giving such a troublemaker permission to follow her whims ‘within limits’? Not even drawing any lines? Do you have any idea how little that means? Sure you don’t! As if you could think that far ahead.]
<No, she seemed rather genuine to me. I don’t think she’ll cause too much disruption.>
[Hmmn, if Senpai says so… But, are you sure?]
<Call it a protagonist’s intuition. I know her type.>
“I hope you’re right…”
— Lilith: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Why wouldn’t I? C’mon, look at it! I get to spend some fun summer break with Master and watch Kyrielight get outdone by literally every other Servant. BB is a pain, but she knows how to have fun.”
—
Ritsuka internally prayed for someone less troublesome, only to be met with yet another Berserker… more or less.
“… Alcas!?”
She really was here! A Berserker like the last two, although she hardly changed when her class did, so it didn’t matter. For some reason, she showed up in her swimsuit-street-wear getup.
“Hawatoria calls for master detective Alcas, doesn’t it? Count on me to solve all the cases!”
[Does that one have brain damage? What kind of show does she think this is?]
How badly Ritsuka wanted to tell BB to shut up.
<Her name is Caster, but she’s a Berserker? Well, after Launcher class, I don’t think anything could surprise me anymore.>
[I know, right? What kind of crazy dumbass would make up a new class out of nowhere?]
<… remind me again about the ‘Moon Cancer’ class.>
[T-That is…! Geez, Senpai! Almost got me there. They can’t even be compared, can they? Moon Cancer was properly adopted, but we never heard of another Launcher, now did we?]
Ritsuka didn’t even want to know what they were talking about. Once more, the two Moon Cancers were in their own world. Maybe they’d be happier still on the moon. Ritsuka would be much happier if the two of them were there.
— Artoria Caster (Alcas): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“Well, that is… you see… I-I’m a Berserker, so!! I don’t even remember why. I felt like it at the moment! … ahaha…”
—
With excitement, Kukulkan stepped out of the summoning circle. She took in the surroundings of this unimpressive summoning room — at least compared to the rest of the mansion — with genuine, almost child-like, wonder.
“They really went all the way to prepare this, huh? Hey-yo, Master! I didn’t make you wait, did I?”
Kukulkan here could be either reassuring or… no, really, it was more of a threat to this singularity than anything. That Servant didn’t really understand her grand powers sometimes.
“No, don’t worry. Enjoy yourself,” Ritsuka said. Not that Kukulkan needed to be told.
[Do all deities have more than a few screws loose? Seriously, I’m seeing a trend here. It’s no wonder my Alter Egos turned out the way they did. With such a basis, they could only be useless fools no matter how well I did crafting them.]
<They both still have their cute sides, though. Besides, I’m not sure if the ‘deity’ part is the root of their issues in the first place.>
[… hey, Senpai. Just what are you implying there?]
“That was more than just an implication…” Ritsuka added.
The true source of the messed-up personalities of Passionlip and Meltryllis was more than obvious. They did share one common denominator after all.
[Well, I can say for sure that if they took more after me, they would be flawlessly perfect AIs! Not the type of AI that throws out senseless junk and slop with the imagination of a wet paper towel, of course!]
Sure.
— Kukulkan: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I’ve only heard of reality TV shows before. It’s so exciting that Chaldea has its own! I really want to know what it’s like! And Master is the prize, right?”
—
Brimming with confidence that was as frail as a broken vase, Huyan Zhuo was summoned.
“The always reliable, beautiful, irresistible, beloved Huyan Zhuo has appeared! Aren’t you happy, Master? Y-you can praise me just a little bit for this entry, you know!”
“You looked really cool there.”
Ritsuka knew better than to withhold praise when Huyan Zhuo already pleaded for it. She wouldn’t risk her most reliable Assassin dying on the spot from a lack of validation.
[This woman is so pathetic. Her entire existence screams ‘Kill me’… Geez, whoever came up with her was a seriously cruel sadist. Imagine being so dependent on what someone else thinks of you.]
<I remember someone who backed down very immediately after being told, ‘Listen to your senpai’.>
[Aaaaaah! Senpai, shush! Shut up! You can’t just reveal my dark history to the world like that!]
<Maybe you have some empusa in your data, too?>
— Huyan Zhuo: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“This is a competition for Master’s affection. So, if Master chooses me, then she must value me above all other Servants. The ultimate proof of how capable and strong and cool and skilled I am. … although… if… if Master doesn’t… choose me, then… uuuuuh gulp… n-no way, she wouldn’t choose someone else over me, right!?”
—
After a silent prayer, Ritsuka proceeded with the next summoning. She would be done soon; she couldn’t wait to get this over with. The rest would remain as a problem for her future self.
To her relieved surprise, a non-problematic, fully reliable Servant showed her face next: Artoria Pendragon.
“Master, I have answered your summons. I hope you are well?”
Perhaps the irritation showed on Ritsuka’s face, or Artoria knew well enough what stress this idiotic ‘show’ caused to her Master.
“So far I’m fine,” Ritsuka answered.
“As your sword, I will make sure it stays that way.”
This would be relieving — if not for the fact that even Artoria’s influence was too limited to guarantee that.
[Master really hit those 1:4096 odds and got a blue Nero, huh? How impressive! I wonder, how many hours of attempts did that take you for a mere color swap?]
<They’re fundamentally different, though. The hair, the eyes, voice, and their bodies… Well, I don’t need to say more.>
[Ah, of course Senpai would pick up on all such subtleties nobody else would even notice! When it comes to women, Senpai sure knows where to look, huh? By which I mean, Senpai has quite the strong libido, which explains all the douji— Ow!! S-Senpai!]
<Ehem. Though she does resemble the other Artoria, doesn’t she? The self-proclaimed master detective.>
[Hmm, sure. They have the same face, the same body… Though one has all the confidence and grace while the other got… What did she have again?]
— Artoria Pendragon: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“It seemed unwise to leave Master alone in this trap. I will ensure she returns unscathed. On my honor as a knight, I will claim victory in this competition and protect the one I have sworn my loyalty as a Servant to.”
—
As though she had a sixth sense for Artoria’s presence, Mordred was next to appear. Realistically, it was more likely that BB decided on that order for this exact purpose.
“What, you surprised to see me?”
“No, not really.” Ritsuka scratched her cheek. She knew better than to mention that seeing Mordred follow Artoria could never be a surprise; she liked to keep her head on her shoulders. “I just didn’t think you’d be interested in this sort of thing.”
“Because I’m not,” Mordred said. “But if father— No. Just know I’m not going to back down here!”
[Hooooly daddy issues… Is her whole life a temper tantrum? How could someone fail that hard at raising their child? Uwah, that other Morgan sure has issues! No wonder she’s not showing her face around here.]
<Aren’t you exaggerating quite a bit, BB? Looking at Meltryllis and Passionlip… Are you really one to talk?>
[H-hey! Those two aren’t my children, though! And I haven’t committed incest to create them either! Don’t put me on the level of that witch. I’m ages ahead of such crude methods.]
<You sure know a lot about this one…>
[Naturally I’d look into every Servant with a connection to Senpai! Be it in this world, in another, or in one abandoned and forgotten by history itself. … though, I wonder, why do you have such an affinity for Saber class Servants? Hmmmnnn. Maybe I should do a class change.]
Three versions of BB were three more than were needed. A BB-flavored Christmas? Or Halloween? Ritsuka shuddered at the thought.
If Hakuno wanted this, she should volunteer to take care of the resulting mess herself. Come to think of it, Hakuno should be the ‘bachelorette’ here in the first place!
— Mordred: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“I couldn’t care less about this whole bachelorette and dating stuff. I’m Master’s knight to begin with; there’s nothing more to prove my loyalty. But if there’s a competition, I’m gonna take it all!”
—
With Artoria Alter — hopefully the final Artoria of the day — another Saber class Servant joined the cast of candidates. Not that even half of the Artorias of Chaldea were present…
“You took your sweet time, Master.”
“I’m not the one who has any influence over the order here… or anything,” Ritsuka said.
“Of course not.”
<Saber… She may seem cold on the surface, but she’s extremely reliable. I don’t know her, but… Some part of me just knows. How strange.>
[Think this might be your original’s memories leaking in, Senpai? No way, you weren’t involved in a Grail War on earth, were you!?]
<… how would I know?>
[Right, right! The classic amnesiac protagonist. Well, I’m not one to throw around spoilers, but I can assure you that it’s unrelated to your earth self.]
<You did mention you keep track of Servants connected to me, so that one… No, I don’t need to know more right now.>
[Good choice. All you need to know is that she’s a stubborn, selfish, edgelord prick with a horrible taste in women. I really messed up there.]
Once more, Ritsuka was out of the loop, though it seemed Hakuno shared that fate this time.
— Artoria Pendragon Alter (Salter): “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“To show the pyromaniac her place. I can’t wait to see her try and approach Master. Also, the food at these things is usually good, right?”
—
Only one candidate was left until Ritsuka could — hopefully — call it a day and leave dealing with the resulting messes to her future self.
She took a deep breath and got it over with — summoning a final Servant that looked like Artoria, but wasn’t one.
“Good evening, Master,” Tonelico said with a smile.
Rain Witch appearing over Savior promised less danger; at least so it felt. Though Morgan’s words echoed in Ritsuka’s mind, that Tonelico was still the same as Morgan herself at the core.
“You’re here as well?”
“I suppose it must seem a little confusing, right? Morgan is already here, after all. But I’m not her, so… You know. Like this, I’m simply Tonelico, a witch from the Land of Rain.”
“That’s true,” Ritsuka agreed.
Even if they were the same person technically, Tonelico and Morgan were separate individuals (somehow), the same way Artoria Caster and Artoria Avalon were ever since Hawatoria (somehow).
<… BB? You’re rather quiet. Do you need a restart to finalize some updates?>
[I’m not some cheap OS!! No, I was just… She really sounds just like you, Senpai! I almost thought my hearing was bugged.]
<Well, she appears to be another version of Morgan from earlier, so it’s a given she’d have the same voice.>
[It’s not just the same voice. It’s Senpai’s voice! And she seems just as kindhearted as Senpai, too! I’m sure she must be just as much of a secret pervert as well! With crazy high libido!]
<…>
The sounds BB made were nothing but pitiful, but it felt well-deserved. Ritsuka would have to thank Hakuno for dishing out justice later.
Well, knowing Hakuno, she probably merely pulled BB’s cheeks with a chilling smile until the AI groveled and apologized. Not that she’d broadcast that; it would ruin her final boss image.
— Tonelico: “Why did you sign up for Chaldea Bachelorette?” —
“… that’s a secret. You wouldn’t expect a witch to share all her secrets, would you?”
—
After all of it was done — finally — Ritsuka carried herself back to what was her room. She was assured that none of the Servants could break into it, no matter what they did, so Ritsuka was granted a proper night’s rest at the very least.
[Rest well, Master~ Tomorrow the real fun will start!]
“What do you have planned…?”
[I said it before, didn’t I? I wouldn’t just spoil things! It’s best to experience it live.]
Ritsuka sighed. Luckily, Hakuno was more willing to be supportive.
<Tomorrow is the start of Round 1. We’ll start with some group activity so the candidates can show off their good sides to woo you. After that, we’ll set you up with a few private dates in the following days.>
“… dates, huh?”
Those weren’t going to be serious dates, right? Not the romantic type you’d have with someone you like. It was all just for show, after all.
