Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lust.

It was a simple word, and yet it encompassed so much. Life was built on lust. Living beings drawn to living beings, acting in order to satisfy the itch that scratched the deepest parts of their psyche.

A carnal sin, one that predated on primal instincts in order to thrive. Passing from person to person like a virus that stripped away decency in exchange for a moment of pleasure.

The ruling noble of Manchester knew that feeling well. She had experienced it plenty of times.

Again.

And again.

And again, and again, and again.

Lover after lover. Her room was no stranger to strangers, unfamiliar scents constantly wafting back and forth. The smells of the past conflate with the sensations of the present, fueling her canine drive faster. She licked her lips, her eyes settling on her newest prey as the two forms collide, gentleness being steamrolled into purely unadulterated passion. They pounced onto the bed, the warmth of their bodies melding together as layer after layer of clothing began to be ripped away as if it were paper.

Her name rang in her ears as she pushed forward, her senses overtaking her. Her muscles rippled, her toes curled, and hot, short breaths slipped from her lips. Pushing. Fighting. Wrestling. An animalistic contest of strength… just as it should be.

The strong should ████ the strong, after all.

‘My name. Keep yelling my name.’

Again, and again. The sound of it, the moment of egoism she’d allow herself. Unbecoming of a knight. Unbecoming of a noble. And yet, the sound still pleased her.

Her senses lost their reason but grew sharper. Her body, built for predation, began to work in full. Her muscular arms pinning her lover to the bed, her thick thighs straddling him as her pelvis pressed into his.

Then finally, release. Sweet release, sweet ecstasy as the woman loses restraint and lets out a wild howl, fully taking the time to indulge herself.

‘My name. Keep yelling. Keep screaming.’

Emblazoned moans shifting into yowls of terror, the sound of bones snapping and joints tearing. Passion. Pure, unadulterated passion, but only from one party now, the climax growing closer and closer, as she twitched in raw anticipation.

‘Yell. Scream. Stop. Quiet. Louder…’

Contradiction. Aggravation. Elation.

Finally, release.

Stained sheets, covered with red, dripping with viscous fluids as the corpse twitches, pieces of his body missing, ripped asunder by the jaws of a beast.

Lovers.

‘I love you.’

Victims.

‘I loved you.’

Meals.

’I loved you.’

Once again, she indulged in her guilty pleasure.

‘Guilty pleasure’.

The phrase had been pacified over time. Eating cake late at night after promising to go on a diet was a guilty pleasure. Watching raunchy performances when nobody was watching was a guilty pleasure. Writing erotic poetry that was kept in the deepest, darkest depths in your cabinets when company was around was a guilty pleasure. Actions that caused embarrassment if they were found out. Funny stories that would be told years later if someone managed to walk in at the wrong moment. Awkward moments that would linger in the back of someone’s mind if someone managed to catch a glimpse of the prose.

There was no real shame. No real guilt. Petty indulgences, sure, but nothing that was a crime.

‘Guilty pleasure’.

What a stupid phrase. None of them knew what actual guilt felt like.

The woman ripped her head away from her lover’s still chest, the sound of ribs cracking. Her strong jaw slowly and carefully chewed, before she swallowed, warmth filling her throat.

A ‘guilty pleasure’. Something that felt good, but something that she knew was wrong.

She wanted to vomit but restrained herself. It wasn’t as if she could throw up the pieces and he’d be whole again. He was nothing more than a corpse.

She sat up, wiping away bloody drool from her lips and smearing her face as she tried to wipe away the tears. She had stopped trying to apologize at this point. She had wanted to, so desperately, as if it would have made a difference. But she had learned one fact a long time ago.

The dead couldn’t accept apologies, and if they could, they wouldn’t accept hers.

She climbed out of bed, ripping the tattered remnants of her clothes off of her body. The room was still dark, as she lumbered around with nothing but her senses and the vague outline of shapes to guide her. Eventually, she stumbled in front of a mirror, her broad shoulders hunched as she stared at the vague silhouette that gazed back at her with feral eyes. Her frame felt too big, crowding the small reflection of the mirror, bruises and scratches covering her bosom and abdomen.

Why had she been born this way?

With a smooth face and clean skin that resembled the delicate members of the Wind Clan, but the massive hulking, animalistic features of the Fanged Clan. If she was a wolf’s maw, or massive claws, or fur covering every inch of her frame, then her ferality would have been accepted. If she was beastly like Lord Boggart or Lord Woodwose, she would have had an excuse.

…No, even then, there would have been no excuse. The fae that resembled beasts were more refined than her. All she could do was pretend. Pretend as if she had dignity. Pretend as if she had shame.

She was a freak.

A monster.

And yet…

She glanced over to the corner of her room, where the moonlight gently glistened off the silver of her armor.

She left the blinds open. Knowing fairies, someone must have seen. Another missing lover. Another rumor. And despite all of the rumors, and the judgement she wanted, nobody would do a thing about it.

Simply because she was a knight. One of Queen Morgan’s special knights. It’d be funny. In the stories she read, she’d probably be one of the creatures that the knights cut apart. The one that threatened the townsfolk, until a hero of great standing and derring-do raised his blade and sliced the beast's head clean off.

She wandered over to her armor, picking up her sword from its rack. With a careful turn and flick of her wrist, the blade whipped up to her neck.

Knights killed monsters.

She was a monster.

She was a knight.

It seemed so simple, so obvious, and yet she couldn’t do it. How pathetic was that? Any knight would be able to cut down a beast, even Sir Gawain would have--

“Ah…”

That’s right. She was ‘Gawain’ now. A knight who brought light and happiness. A knight that brought hope. She lowered her sword, dropping it to the ground.

She was ‘Gawain’ now.

During the day, she could live that fantasy. She could ride around the countryside, helping others. Fulfilling her own quests and serving as a shining beacon for her people and the kingdom that she served, protecting the weak and fighting the strong.

Tomorrow, when the sun rose, she could dive into that delusion again. So, she just needed to make it to the morning. One more morning. And then another. And then another.

She’d face each rising sun as ‘Gawain’.

And when night fell, she’d slander his name and succumb to her instincts, like always.

She caught her reflection in her armor as she put away her blade, staring at her face. Her skin, light and fair. Her eyes, shiny and blue. Her lips stained a deep red. Her hair, a gentle blonde, framing her face in an almost picturesque fashion. A woman. From the outside, she looked just like a woman. Despite it being her face, it felt so foreign, as if she was looking at a stranger, or staring at a mask.

A sickening, violent feeling struck her gut as she swiped at the armor, knocking it to the side with an irritable clatter. She turned to the side, heaving and coughing, blood staining her carpet as her mind swirled with disgust.

A blonde wig on a black dog.

How ridiculous.

Chapter Text

Chaldea was terrifying.

Not intentionally. On the contrary, everyone was quite welcoming. Uncomfortably so, in her opinion. After everything that occurred in the Fairy Kingdom, she expected to be ostracized and leered at, pushed away and labelled as nothing more than the vague remnants of a reality that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

But that wasn’t the case at all. They had been excited after summoning her, glad to have another Servant fighting for the cause of Proper Human History.

However, that was even more daunting. It was easy to be a ‘hero’ in the Fairy Kingdom, due to the fickle nature of fairies. Heroics and good deeds didn’t occur without a price, and even she had taken her ‘price’ in the form of her lovers, and lorded her strength as one of ‘Morgan’s Fairy Knights’ over others. But now she was in an environment surrounded by the truly selfless. Heroes. People who accomplished things that she’d never be able to, or possibly never had considered.

She was a fake. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Someone who had shamelessly stolen the name of a real hero to fulfil her own desires.

She made her way from the simulator hall, still clad in her armor. It seemed as if Servants had a considerable amount of down time, considering the small squadrons that were needed for battle. As she made her way from her contribution to the war effort, she caught the eye of another Servant heading towards the simulator.

“Ah… Sir Tristan.”

She recognized him easily. One of the true examples of selflessness, staying behind and fighting against an opponent far out of his league. She had spoken disrespectfully to him then. And even if he wasn’t a renowned knight, her behavior was improper. Her eyes drifted away, not wanting to look him directly in the eyes.

Instead of deriding her, he rested a hand on his chest, heaving a dramatic, wistful sigh.

“Ah… to hear my name ring forth from the lips of a fine woman… Perhaps fortune is smiling upon me once more.” He mused. “So, you’ve come to Chaldea. It’s good to see you. Or… perhaps the right verbiage is ‘nice to meet you’?”

“...You don’t remember me?” She asked, curiously. He chuckled lightly, before shrugging.

“You destroyed my Spirit Origin rather thoroughly, I’m sad to say…” He explained, folding his arms. Barghest grimaced, opening her mouth to apologize before he kept talking. “When I was properly re-summoned, I read the logs regarding the Fairy Kingdom. You’re quite the mighty one, my competitive spirit is prompting me to ask for a one-on-one rematch…”

“Tristan, that’s enough. Can’t you see you’re bothering the woman? I’m certain she has places to be.”

Another voice cut into the conversation, as both of them turned to see another knight approaching. Her eyes locked onto the source of the voice.

A man. His hair was as golden as the sun, with bright eyes that reminded her of a clear sunny day. His shoulders were broad and defined, and even under his regalia one could tell that his body was finely toned and trained. Strapping. Handsome. Strong. The fae in her ‘Britain’ had lost the ability to see into the souls of others long ago, but just from a glance she could tell that he was someone absolutely beautiful both inside and out.

She felt her voice catch in her throat. Her heart began to pound, as thoughts raced through her head, accompanied by images that she’d want to hide away forever.

The tension of his body under hers. Her arms ripping his armor to shreds, as she put her lips to his. The night would fill with their cries as they both struggled to survive until the sun rose, fighting in a violent embrace.

…Though that was on the surface. She could sense something else. Some other vague feeling that was pooling under the surface. If the constant pounding of her heart was like a hurricane, then this feeling was like its ‘eye’, serene and unreachable.

This feeling…

“...Pardon me?” The man’s voice cut in.

Barghest blinked, reality crashing into her like a cold wave, before looking back towards the blond man.

“Y…Yes?” Her voice came out as a squeak, her cheeks turning the slightest bit pink.

“I apologize for my friend. You’re well-acquainted with Sir Tristan, but I should introduce myself as well.” He bowed, with an airy and cordial smile on his face. “I am Sir Gawain, a knight of the Round Table. It’s an honor to truly make your acquaintance, my lady.”

The name hit her like a gong, ringing throughout her ears and sending chills down her spine.

Gawain.

…The fae in her ‘Britain’ had lost the ability to see into the souls of others long ago, but just from a glance she could tell that he was someone absolutely beautiful both inside and out.

A beautiful soul. A beautiful human. Something that she would never be. That she couldn’t be. That she soiled the chance of being long ago. She had been given the gift of his name by her queen, and she had done nothing but sully it. With her lust. With her gluttony. With the arrogance to turn her own blade against her kingdom.

…And even then, it wasn’t as if she had the right to love another regardless after what she had done.

The confusing, serene feeling that was bubbling in her chest was washed over with a sense of shame and humiliation.

“...Barghest.” She replied after what seemed like an eternity, her tone tense with curtness and finality. Just… Barghest. What right did she have to introduce herself as the Fae Knight known as ‘Gawain’. To even admit that she shared a name with him would probably bring him a greater sense of shame. "It's... an honor to meet you."

That was all she could muster. She was standing before her hero- her heroes, and yet she found herself struggling to even speak, as if the words she'd say would poison the air and cause more harm than good. Her eyes didn't leave Gawain as he stared up at her, with the same cordial and serene look.

The sun was something that no living being could reach. An ethereal body that hovered above all living things, shining and giving life without asking for anything in return. A representation of selflessness and purity, constantly burning even when it seemed it disappeared, since the disappearance of the sun just meant it was shining its light elsewhere.

Untouchable. Unreachable.

And the knight of the Sun was the same way in her eyes.

“...I don’t want to hold you any longer. Sir Tristan. Sir Gawain.” She bowed her head, which didn’t do much to change the gap in height between them. A wave of self-consciousness rippled through her body. The idea that she was too tall. Too broad. Too muscular. The maidens in the Matter of Britain were slim and fair. Her thoughts from before, feral and filled with lust, seemed embarrassing and childish to even consider. He’d be disgusted at the thought of touching her body. Repulsed at the idea that they shared a name and title.

Again and again, the same thoughts raced through her head. Lapping and overlapping until her brain was tied up in ribbons.

Sir Gawain was a savior of humans, not animals. A hero to women, not beasts. Her thoughts were nothing more than pitiful daydreams.

She was Barghest. Just… Barghest.

The name of the demonic hounds that roamed the lands, serving as a symbol of nothing more than death and destruction. Wild beasts that killed without thought, and ravaged without remorse.

She didn’t catch the look in his eye as he watched the conflicted expression on her face as she bowed her head again, hurrying down the halls. His intense, yet thoughtful gaze as she slowly vanished out of sight.

The sun was said to be untouchable. Thought to be unreachable.

But regardless, it shone for all living things.

Chapter Text

Passion.

Like a dark curse, it enraptured both the mind and the body. In the shadows, two figures found themselves pressed against each other. A man and a woman, with chiseled, refined bodies and golden hair found themselves under the thrall of this dark curse. The sounds of hounds howled in the distance, as they found themselves huddling. Were they hiding? Perhaps they hadn’t noticed. The man’s actions were gentle, like the rays of the sun as he carefully found himself on top of the woman, his green eyes locked onto hers as he leaned in and locked his lips against hers with-

Passion.

His lips trailed away as the woman found herself leaning forwards, as if begging for more as he slowly trailed his kisses down her neck, passing past her collar until she felt him against her chest, her bosom becoming pert and attentive at his warm touch. Their breathing had been in perfect sync as he did his best to treat her as a lady, before…

Passion.

The man found himself stuck. His body restrained as dark chains began to surround his body. The sound of hounds howling in the distance drew closer and closer to the two figures, collected and huddling together in the shadows. With that, the farce ended, and the woman showed her true face.

The passion between a man and a woman turned into the one-sided passion of a beast as the chains restrained the man further and further, his naked flesh flush and bare as the restraints lifted him up in a humiliating, compromising position as the beast examined his body, the details vague and ill-defined and yet her imagination filled in the blanks. Her hands trailed down the thick pectoral muscles, lightly stroking against his stomach before going lower, and lower. She could feel the look in his eyes as she took to pleasuring him, a gaze filled with hatred and betrayal, and yet he was succumbing more and more to the curse that had afflicted him earlier.

His moans, angered yet lustful, pricked the ears of the beast, as a low purr slipped from her lips as she drew her face closer to his. Her pink lips opening wider and wider to reveal a canine maw, filled with jagged teeth and a wet, flopping tongue that erased any idea of womanhood from the beast. The look in his eyes revealed everything. That he hated her. Reviled her.

Good.

And she returned the kiss that she had longed for just moments earlier. Her maw taking in more and more of his head, before slowly closing. Red trickled against the tips of her jagged teeth. It closed further.

He was screaming.

Further.

He was begging.

Further.

Pleading.

Further. Further. Further.

And then--

Barghest’s eyes snapped open, her chest heaving, a strained gasp escaping her throat. Her face was slick with sweat, as she quickly put a hand towards her mouth, relieved yet disgusted when all that trailed off her fingertips was just clear saliva, without even the slightest hint of red.

While Servants didn’t need to sleep, they were given private quarters in order to prevent the need for them to be summoned again and again when needed. Of course, the convenience came with a cost; considering the sheer amount of Servants, rooms needed to be shared. It was usually decided by class if the summoned Servant didn’t have any close friends or choices, and then it became a question of who would work best with said newcomer.

She glanced over at a woman lounging on her own bed along the opposite side of the room. Smooth shoulders like polished amethyst rolled back as pert, plum colored lips carefully drank from a glass bottle, the contents quickly disappearing. Barghest felt her face heating up as she tried to speak up.

“I…”

The dragon popped her lips from the mouth of the bottle, inhaling as if she had been drowning herself in alcohol the entire time, before running her hand across her mouth to wipe off the excess. Slowly, yet intentionally, she returned Barghest’s gaze.

“I was wondering whether to wake you up or not… but, you know, it seemed a bit dicey to head over that way…” Her roommate grinned boozily, running her tongue over her pointed teeth before making a quick, snapping biting motion.

Barghest’s cheeks, already pink, were practically a bright red at that point. She couldn’t make out the look on the other Saber’s face. Was it judgment? She had been at Chaldea for what seemed like less than two days, and she had already humiliated herself. However, despite the dark clouds that could practically be seen hovering over the fairy’s head, the other woman waved them off with one, incredibly flippant motion.

“Relaaax. I didn’t watch, I just came back to finish up my drink. That nurse gets mean if she catches me after too many bottles, you know?”

As the oni effortlessly parried the subject, the smell of Ibuki-Douji’s alcohol was sickeningly sweet, to an intoxicating degree. Because the both of them were… rather large Sabers, their Master had assumed they’d be perfectly fine as roommates. Of course, outside of their height, there was nothing similar about them, Barghest thought. She had realized that after they had exchanged brief introductions earlier after their living situation had been assigned.

Despite being clearly inhuman, it seemed as if Ibuki reveled in that fact, and allowed it to emphasize her beauty even further. She presented herself with an air of confidence that was completely unknightly, and yet even more refined despite being so capricious. She was royalty in some sense, or at least carried herself as such, with a presence rivaling Queen Morgan’s own. In Barghest’s eyes, the oni goddess was like a graceful swan while she was more of an… awkward pelican.

The demon pouted, apparently misinterpreting Barghest’s long silence as displeasure. “Fine, fine… the next time you start squirming around like that, I’ll give you a little wake-up tap, okaay?” She purred, looking away as she sleepily flipped the bottle in her grip upside down as she shook it, confirming the contents were empty before tossing to the side, rolling out of bed as she elegantly manifested clothes on her nude form. She adjusted the collar on her form fitting sweater as Barghest watched with relative jealousy.

Sauntering over to the door, Ibuki-Douji turned her head back with an easygoing smile, before daintily waving a manicured hand, her teal nails still somehow glittering in the dim light of the room.

“I’ll cover for you running late this time, so get cleaned up, okaaay? You’re new, so I’m sure they’ll let it slide.”

“Wait.”

Ibuki paused, moments from opening the door as she stopped to look back at Barghest. The breezy expression had left her face for a moment, as if she had sobered up enough to hear the tension in Barghest’s voice.

“If you’re going to apologize, don’t. Just let me know if you need some ‘private time’, and I’ll do my best to leave you alone.” She said airily, before leaving.

And with that, Ibuki-Douji was gone. Leaving Barghest alone.

Somehow, the fact that Ibuki-Douji had accepted everything that had happened as ‘normal’ made Barghest feel worse. There was nothing normal about the twisted, violent thoughts that roiled in her head… though maybe it was hard to tell what she was thinking from the outside. Barghest could only think that her ‘dream’ had most likely looked like she was some pathetic, lovelorn girl lusting after one of the many men in Chaldea, and the idea that she had been dreaming about rending a proud, good person asunder didn’t even cross her roommate’s mind.

She had fallen asleep. She knew that Servants didn’t need to do something so extraneous, but her mind had been racing since she had met Gawain earlier, so after her work was done she had tried to return to her assigned quarters for a quick nap. Just enough to rest her mind and body so that she could return to top form, and afterwards…

That dream.

While she had expected something, she hadn’t expected something that… quickly. It was a dirty, incredibly vile feeling that welled up within the deepest parts of her body, and caused tension within her loins. Almost like a curse, she had locked onto him as a potential ‘lover’ within moments of meeting him.

In a sense, she had doomed him.

That dream.

Wrapping him up in her chains, leaving him helpless as she slowly had her way with him, turning him into a beautiful buffet that she and she alone could indulge in for as long as she desired…

It took far too long for her to realize the twisted smile that had crossed her face, her hand quickly striking her cheek as she recoiled from the sudden pain of smacking herself, reality affixing itself back into place.

“I’m a knight… I’m a knight… I’m a knight…” She repeated again, her panicked attempts at self-affirmation only barely keeping her restrained. Ad infinitum, she repeated the phrase again and again as she cleaned herself up, manifesting her heavy armor on her person. She eventually stepped outside of her room, squinting as she adjusted to the change in lighting, before seeing a note on her door. At a glance, it looked like a

“...I see, so I’m gathering materials…?” She murmured, taking the note from her door. That was simple enough. Considering she was new, she was probably just supposed to do easier assignments until her Master could eventually dedicate the resources to enhancing her Saint Graph. Her eyes trailed down to the list of names that had been assigned to her ‘party’ that would be accompanying her, and, right at the top of the list…

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to drop the note and go back to sleep, or rip in half along with the person who had drafted it.

‘Gawain’.

Chapter Text

Material farming was a surprisingly unsocial affair. Several Servants stood in the simulated wreckage of a city resembling that of an ancient Mesopotamian metropolis, the last remnants of their monstrous foes fading into naught but piles of data, bones, and other monstrous parts to collect. Their Master was already taking the lead as the rest of the party- Gawain included- trudged forward, as Barghest stood by herself, quietly shifting on her toes.

Despite the assumed ease of the task, she had been falling behind considerably. Her responses to her new Master’s commands were sluggish, her movements stilted and awkward, and more often than not she found herself taking completely unnecessary damage. It wasn’t her fault- she was struggling to pay attention because of a certain knight that was accompanying them.

Gawain was… perfect. He was the perfect Saber, it seemed like. No hesitation in regards to following orders, perfectly sweeping through enemies with brilliant flames. His Noble Phantasm was a work of art, as if the rising sun itself had graced their hunting party with its presence.

She hadn’t even mustered up the courage to use the True Name of her Noble Phantasm yet. ‘Black Dog Galatine’ seemed like a joke when compared to the brilliance of ‘Excalibur Galatine’.

Luckily, it seemed as if their Master was giving her some slack. Her ‘Saint Graph’ was still in its initial phases, at least as described, so her weakness may have been chalked up to a simple lack of Chaldean resources put towards her strength. At least, that was a fitting excuse as any, but she knew deep down that her Master was most likely trying to save face for her with theories like that rather than saying something legitimate.

So, she stayed closer to the backlines, simply watching the ‘experienced’ members get their work done. Apparently this particular exercise was best for Sabers and Assassins, and so their group was made up of a rather interesting hodgepodge of Servants. Of course, her and Gawain fought as the ‘Sabers’, supported by a rather eccentric Caster that had apparently been a well-accomplished playwright in Proper Human History. Then there was the ‘Assassin’, one of the alleged ‘Three Great Beauties’.

Well, Barghest could think ‘allegedly’ as much as possible, but even she found herself victim to the charms the Assassin exuded.

She- the ‘final pharaoh Cleopatra’- was as if a statue made from the most polished marble had come to life, with long dark hair that glistened under the beating Mesopotamian sun, and graceful defined features accompanied by a practiced poise that would probably draw the eyes of both man and woman alike.

Almost certainly she had noticed Gawain stealing glances in the pharaoh's direction as she battled in a silken white dress, even still without missing a beat. Enraptured by her elegance and beauty, for sure.

Barghest suddenly felt a bit more self-conscious in her stuffy armor. It was practical, sure, but…

“Someone seems a tad nervous.” A sanguine voice cooed from behind her, as the large knight turned to see a woman dressed in a tight black bodysuit, her pink hair coiled into a long ponytail with an excessively large ribbon, as vulpine (or perhaps they’d be better described as ‘bunny-like’?) ears twitched curiously. The woman- ‘Koyanskaya’- had apparently been an acquaintance of Lady Muryan in the Fairy Kingdom, and was now graciously providing supportive skills to the fighting party as their final member. Barghest hadn't realized she wasn't alone- but it seemed as if this Koyanskaya was an 'Assassin' as well, so perhaps it was to be expected.

In a similar vein to Lady Cleopatra, it seemed as if Miss Koyanskaya was also a ‘traditional beauty’, though in a way completely unfamiliar to Barghest. Practically oozing administrative confidence, eyes that seemed to pierce to the core of any matter, and a smile that could win over any argument without delay.

She would have made an excellent woman of the Fang Clan. Maybe she could have done a better job ruling Manchester.

“Oh, please. Don’t scowl. I mean, it certainly fits that face of yours, but it’ll make little old me nervous, you know.”

Barghest hadn’t realized she was scowling. She raised a hand to her mouth, eyes darting to the side- the gesture far more demure and girlish than expected, as expressed by the quirked brow of the vixen, whose bushy tail seemed to sway back and forth with an air of expectancy.

Gathering herself, Barghest planted her sword in the ground, eyes narrowing. “I am not nervous. I am simply staying back to observe my senior warriors at Chaldea.” It was a fine excuse, really.

“That’s a perfectly fine excuse, sure.” Koyanskaya replied, as if reading her mind. Before she could continue her point further, she wordlessly manifested a cell phone and held up a finger as if to shush Barghest as a trail of red mana flowed from the device.

“Yes, yes. Exactly as ordered, here’s your NFF Service. Don’t spend it all in one place, okay?” She spoke, before snapping the device away, focusing back on Barghest. “So sorry. We’re still on call, after all, and that burly-looking knight needed some extra power. “So, we were talking about your crippling nervousness?”

“My lack thereof.” Barghest shot back.

“Of course, of course… Still, your anxiety is perfectly normal. After all, we all have crushes, don’t we?” Her eyes, a subtle gold, trailed past Barghest to the party that was growing further and further away, notably settling on the back of Sir Gawain.

The word ‘crush’ was unfamiliar to Barghest, but the meaning seemed to come through clear enough. At least… she thought so.

“I-I have no intention of crushing Sir Gawain!” Barghest blurted out, her cheeks reddening as Koyanskaya’s face- well, it certainly remained stoic, the most emotion seemed to be drawn from the subtle movements of her brows, which seemed to find themselves settling into a position of sympathy.

Koyanskaya shook her head, lips pursed slightly. “You poor thing. All of that unchecked love could end up crushing him, you know. After all, you’re such a big girl with a big heart.”

Barghest wasn’t sure she liked the way that ‘big’ was emphasized, and twice nonetheless. She was tall. Statuesque. Other adjectives that were less pejorative. Her gauntleted hands squeezed open and shut for a moment, an anxious tick that Koyanskaya seemed to pick up on with the swiftness of a jackrabbit as she drew herself closer, the distance between them becoming almost uncomfortably sparse.

“Could you kneel down for a second, hon?”

Koyanskaya requested, with an odd amount of authority- enough that Barghest felt one of her knees hit the ground before she even really had a chance to think. Of course, the time for thinking had become even more offset when she found herself used as the makeshift stand for a bright pink sniper being rested on her shoulder. The loud crack of gunfire- something that she had never had the displeasure of hearing within the ‘Lostbelt’- rattled against her eardrums as she wrenched herself away. She stumbled back up to her full height, looming over Koyanskaya with a dreadful snarl.

“You…!”

“Thank you very much.” The vixen said, with a wolfish grin. “See? Your strong, strapping build gave me a perfect shot. Just look.” A latex-clad finger pointed behind them, Barghest turning to see the latest monster- incredibly far away- reeling back in pain as a gaping wound laid itself bare in its chest.

“I… helped with that?” Barghest gaped.

She heard Koyanskaya make a noise from behind her- quick and high. Based on the way she was covering her mouth, Barghest could only assume it was a sneeze… it was rather dusty out here, after all. She waved her hand slightly before recovering.

“Of course you helped with that, and because you helped me, I’d like to help you. Free of charge, too.”

Barghest felt her skepticism returning, nervously biting her lower lip. “...You’d like to help me?”

“Of course. I feel as if we’re kindred spirits, after all. And while I’ve certainly left more of my… animalistic impulses in ‘another location’, what kind of woman would I be to let another beas-- another beauty simply flounder around like this?” Her words hopped around quickly, her cadence fast and snappy, and her hand gestures stylish and distracting. “After all, you want to be with that knight, don’t you? But even with that big heart of yours, you’re holding yourself back.”

With a silent nod, Barghest agreed. It was better if she didn’t attempt to pursue Sir Gawain after all. He was a proud Knight of the Round Table, and she was… well, even comparing them both would be doing him a disservice. Besides, if she had followed her impulses, then perhaps Chaldea would end up losing a truly valuable Saber in the process. She couldn’t take that risk, both for her sake, and the sake of those that mattered.

“Love is difficult, I understand. I really, really do. And your love towards our wonderful Sir Gawain is like a live landmine, I think.”

“...A ‘landmine’?” Another term that Barghest was unfamiliar with.

“A truly beautiful piece of human innovation.” Koyanskaya elaborated with a look of felicitous joy, adjusting her thin-rimmed spectacles as she stared up at Barghest through thick, lowered lashes. “A device that’s buried within the earth, hidden and latent, but containing immense power nonetheless. And it simply sits and waits, with the patience of a saint, for the right person to come by.”

That sounded lonely. Even if it was only a machine, to have only a purpose to sit and stay latent within the earth was quite the miserable thing to be compared to. “What happens when the ‘right person’ discovers the landmine?”

She could see Koyanskaya’s teeth now, sparkling white canines spread into a grin that passed ‘feminine’ and teetered on the edge of ‘carnivorous’. “Oh, that’s the most sublime part. First, it happens entirely by chance- by fate, some might say.”

“By fate?” Her breathing hitched slightly. Romance was certainly unpredictable…

“Yes, by fate, and then all it takes is just a little bit of pressure-”

“P…Pressure…?” Barghest could feel her pulse quickening already. Her potential romance with Gawain… needed ‘pressure’...?

“Before--”

There was the snap of Koyanskaya’s fingers, before the sound of deafening fireworks popped around Barghest’s head, her own face feeling as hot as the simulated explosions. Pink light illuminating her golden hair and pale cheeks, dancing across the whites of her eyes like a stunning symphony.

Her love was like a ‘landmine’? Something that with the right amount of pressure, could blossom into something bright and vibrant?

Her love had been shameful. Filled with nothing but dark rooms and bloodstains. Selfish gluttony and hidden feelings. Whispered confessions and airless apologies.

But… she was tired of that.

She wanted to be like this ‘landmine’. She wanted her love to be like this ‘landmine’.

Brilliant. Stunning. Beautiful. Loud. Confident. Just like Miss Koyanskaya described.

“And see, Miss Barghest, all I would like is to see your landmine go off on that man. A simple, pure wish, born from my own sense of curiosity and empathy.” Koyanskaya’s tail swished idly, as she held out her hands. With a moment of hesitation, Barghest took them with a bright smile. The first real smile that had crossed her face since she had arrived at Chaldea.

Maybe this time she could love with hope.

Maybe this time…

Chapter Text

Desire.

This was not something he felt often. Even in Chaldea, surrounded by beauties, none of them had elicited raw desire. That deep, bubbling feeling of ‘want’, wanting to make something yours, to take something- someone- deep within your arms and never let them go. To plunge into a level of intimacy that you avoided like the plague before. He was on top of a woman, staring down at her. Staring at her with-

Desire.

His armor was gone- his sign of being a knight stripped away, leaving nothing but the pensive sweat rolling down his nude form. Just a man. He lowered himself onto her, her glistening lips parting with a gentle gasp. His body hesitated, doubt clouding his mind, before he felt her thighs tense and her hands grip his forearms, pulling him closer. She was so strong- for the first time, there wasn’t the need to be ‘gentle’. No need to be careful. No need to be dignified. Nothing but acting in this sense of…

Desire.

She shared the name of a monster- a beast... ‘Barghest’- but he didn’t understand why. Every part of her felt like a woman, from her thighs, to her hips, to her bosom. He waited for the catch- for him to be deceived by the fae charms of this woman, but nothing gave out. They found themselves intertwined, her lips forming words, but rendered soundless to him. The two of them rocking together in harmony. Together. Comfortable. Able to ‘be’.

Whimpers turned to moans, moans turned to shouts, with no signs of growing quiet. Until...

Until he felt heat… he looked around, the sweat coating his skin beginning to sizzle. His eyes widened as he looked around. A burning town. Destruction. Screams. Fear. His heart began to pound, adrenaline rushing through his system as he looked down at himself.

He was in his armor again. Covered from the neck down in steel, his gauntlets gripping Galatine as he stared into the eyes of the massive black Calamity that he had been called by Chaldea to quell. A creature without reason. A disaster that could never feel happiness. A curse, and only a curse.

One that he was duty-bound to slay.

He raised his blade, the corners of his eyes beginning to sting as he swung down--

And he found himself back in Chaldea, laying in his quarters.

It wasn't like Gawain was having a hard time focusing. Not at all. Not in the slightest. Especially not after a dream like that.

‘Barghest’... as far as names went, it was certainly foreboding. A hound that served as a herald of incoming death, but no matter how much he looked at her, she was very clearly a maiden. Beautiful blonde hair, striking eyes, fair skin, strong stature…

“Earth to Gawain.”

A voice cut in, Gawain blinking suddenly as he turned to look over at Lancelot, who had a rather bemused expression on his face. The violet-haired knight let out a bit of a sigh, shaking his head as Tristan stifled a bit of a snicker.

“Goodness, we were only just talking about the new recruits, and the moment we mentioned our new Saber, it was like you became possessed. I’ve seen you smitten before, but this is… certainly something.” Lancelot continued, “I mean, these ‘Faerie Knights’ are certainly interesting, for certain.”

Tristan ran a hand through his hair, pursing his lips slightly.

“...’Interesting’ is one way to put it. I assumed this would be like any other Lostbelt, with them being alternate versions of us, but… ah, how sad, the ‘Tristan’ of the Fae Kingdom is nothing like me at all… she’s barely even an Archer…” He complained a bit, as Gawain and Lancelot exchanged glances. Tristan’s reasons for groaning were a bit deeper than that- as soon as the new Archer-class Servant arrived, he had tried to introduce himself to her, and ended up with a cursed stake through his foot.

Lancelot kept his experiences with the new Lancer to himself. Apparently, she had caught wind of one of his and Tristan’s attempts at flirting, and gave him a look of something between disgust and pity that rattled him to his core.

But when the conversation shifted to the newest Saber, then things grew complicated.

“...You remember, don’t you?” Lancelot said. Right, he had been summoned as well by Mash’s shield. “That Calamity we had to destroy… that was her, wasn’t it? ‘Barghest’.”

Gawain nodded, quietly.

“Did you tell her?” He asked, as Lancelot frowned.

“No. Did you? You’ve been instructed to help her gather materials.”

“It’s not exactly a subject that comes up in casual conversation. And she hasn’t been talking to me much anyways, I assume she doesn’t have much interest in conversing with me.”

She seemed to be avoiding him a bit. Avoiding conversation- keeping things curt and formal. It seemed like a cruel secret to keep, but a difficult subject to breach nonetheless. He had tried to handle it simply- treat this as their first meeting, without any messiness of the past. But even that felt… dishonest, such that he felt it in his gut, nauseatingly so. As much as he wanted to say that it was just her trying to avoid conversation, he wasn’t exactly opting into it as well. When they gathered materials, he surged to the front, setting enemies ablaze and then returned to Chaldea.

It just seemed… right, to keep it simple and distant like that. There were plenty of women to flirt with, there was no reason to make it complicated. They were Sabers. Just… fellow Sabers. That was it.

Before he could dwell on that thought for much longer, two women walked into the commissary, one of them being the woman of honor.

She waltzed in with her armor, his posture even stiffer than normal. At her side was a woman that Gawain had learned to be ‘Koyanskaya’. A woman who was, to put it simply and nicely, absolute trouble. He felt his brow furrow a bit, wondering what exactly the fox was up to.

The knights all watched quietly as the vixen whispered something into Barghest’s ear, and they suddenly found themselves under her gaze. Barghest stopped in her tracks, before giving them a coquettish wave and a smile that would make one weak at the knees.

…Or tried to, at the very least.

It was clumsy. Awkward. Clearly nothing that she would have done of her own volition, as determined by the fact that her cheeks were rapidly growing more and more red and she was now backing out of the cafeteria, but at the same time it was…

“...Cute.”

Cute?

It didn’t make sense to him. That this woman was that deadly Calamity. But something about the fact that it was not making sense made it more interesting, more enticing, striking him with this curiosity that had never truly crossed his mind before. This woman, who acted with all the decorum and rigidity of a great knight, capable of calamitous violence, and yet could still cause him to forget all of that in a moment with just a wave. He felt himself smile with the rhythmic beats in his chest- his heart beginning to pound.

…Perhaps keeping things as just ‘fellow Sabers’ would be a bit more difficult than he thought.

Chapter Text

The massive spirit, Ibuki-Douji, lounged on one of the beds. With Koyanskaya on the other, Barghest had found herself kneeling on the floor. While the proposition from Koyanskaya had been ‘girl talk’, this felt more like a strategy meeting, and she was feeling less like a participant and more like a peon. Koyanskaya’s first plan was simple, simply put Barghest on Gawain’s ‘radar’, whatever that meant. ‘Flirting’, she called it. Courtship in the modern era. She had tried to wave, and bailed out quickly due to embarrassment, but Koyanskaya seemed to have been satisfied with… whatever data she collected.

‘Data’... Barghest was feeling a bit like a pet project.

Ibuki-Douji hadn’t been part of Koyanskaya’s plan, but they needed to use a room and the goddess wasn’t budging, so the secretary simply had to improvise and adjust.

With that in mind, the two other women looked down at her, as the dragon spoke.

“Normally, I don’t think me and the fox--”

“Bunny”, Koyanskaya corrected swiftly, catching a brief glare from Ibuki before she continued.

“Normally, I don’t think me and the bunny,” A sidelong glance, with raised eyebrows as if to ask ‘is this better?’ and a look back towards Barghest when there was no more protest, “I don’t think we would be of the same mind, but I have to agree, I think Sir Gawain is into you.”

Barghest choked a bit on her own spit, shaking her head rapidly.

“Impossible! Sir Gawain is a shining knight, and someone like myself could never--!”

She found herself babbling, not entirely sure what she was saying herself.

The bunny and the oni exchanged glances. More eyebrow gestures. Barghest frowned-- They never used their words, just made faces at the things she would say. Subtle microexpressions that she struggled to keep up with, as if the women of Proper Human History had created their own wordless language and she was merely trying to translate in real time.

“You know, it’s sweet that you think Gawain is this perfect hunk, but--” Ibuki was quickly shushed by Koyanskaya.

“Ah-ah-ah. I don’t want to spoil anything. Some lessons are best learned by experience.”

Ibuki frowned, wrinkling her nose before turning over to Barghest, deciding to stop the subject for now and move on. “Say… If you were alone with Sir Gawain, right now, what would you do?” Ibuki asked, her tail curiously drifting from side to side.

Barghest thought.

Would she take him, then and there? No, not a chance. He was a knight- elegant and focused. She’d have to respond in kind, anything else would turn him away. She had to be just as perfect as he was, keep her thoughts pure and devoid of lust.

“Perhaps…” Hold his hand? No, not that. Steal a kiss? This early? Drop a handkerchief and leave for him to return later, perhaps? That was maidenly… or was that how you offered a challenge for a duel? The more she thought, and the more her mind raced, the redder her cheeks turned.

She could hear Ibuki coo out a quiet ‘aww’ with a smile, as Koyanskaya seemed… less impressed.

“She’s a romantic.” Koyanskaya groaned, her ears twitching. “I’d prefer if you were a bit more assertive, Miss Barghest, but it is what it is. I elected to help, so I’ll do what I can. And so…” A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as Barghest blinked, tilting her head slightly.

‘What she can’, in that moment, meant a ‘makeover’. Though ‘makeover’ was putting it simply- they really had just pried her out of her armor and stuck her in a dress. Barghest admitted that she had put up a bit of an immature fuss during the entire ordeal, and had maybe bit Ibuki-Douji in the process as the two others tried their best to wrestle her out of the armor and find some fitting clothes for her Spirit Origin. And, eventually, they had put her in a sundress.

She felt nude without her armor, really. Of course, she could always manifest it onto her body- that was a new benefit to being a Heroic Spirit, but that had been explicitly forbidden by her two cohorts.

‘Trust me, Gawain likes pretty faces, but this will definitely get his attention.’ Ibuki had said.

The dress was pretty, sure. A light, white sundress that tickled her thighs and made her feel glad that there wasn’t a breeze within Chaldea proper. It just didn’t seem like it fit her, especially when she had looked in the mirror of that quaint Chaldean “crane atelier”. Her arms felt too big, her shoulder too wide and her stomach too muscled. It was as if they wrestled some overly silks onto a wolf, children making their dog pretty for a pageant.

Barghest kept the thoughts to herself, understanding the effort that the others had used to put her into the dress in the first place. So, she had made a simpler complaint instead, stating that she had felt like it was showing too much cleavage, though when she had made that comment, Koyanskaya had sneered and shook her head.

‘That’s not your dress’ fault, honey.’

And then, as if the humiliation couldn’t stop, she was sent to Gawain’s quarters. Alone. She had stood in front of the door

She knocked.

‘A moment, please.’ A polite voice from the other side, before the door opened up and Gawain stood in the doorway.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Perhaps it was just shock that he’d open up the door for her… before she realized that he had no reason of knowing who was there, and was polite enough to open up for anybody.

“Oh, Lady… Barghest…?” He trailed off.

He was in his armor. It made her feel… extra nude. His eyes started at her face, before trailing down her body. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, whether it was something cruel, or perhaps he thought that this display was pitiful. His lips were parted, slightly agape as if stunned.

She also swiftly became aware again that he was looking up at her. She felt too tall. Maidens weren’t taller than their knights- that wasn’t how it went. She felt big and unwieldy, like a tank.

“I’m… new here.” She said, feeling a bit foolish as the words tumbled out. “I… I mean, I haven’t seen all Chaldea has to offer, and we were partners in material farming so I supposed that, as a senior Saber, you could help show me around… perhaps?”

It was a stupid excuse, in Barghest’s opinion. She had already been here for a couple of days, and had plenty of time to look around the facilities for herself. He wouldn’t buy it. Not a chance.

Gawain blinked, as if he was in his own head for a moment, before nodding.

“Of course, my lady. One moment.”

He closed the door, and seconds seemed to drag on into minutes that felt like an eternity. She tugged at the hem of her dress, lighting her lips to keep them from drying out with anxiety. Eventually, he opened up the door, and had changed clothes. It wasn’t anything fancy, a simple collared shirt and matching pants, though it seemed perfect on his frame.

He offered a hand, and she followed his head.

And, to call him the perfect host would be an understatement. He led her through the basic spaces, spaces that she had absolutely seen before, but she quietly nodded along and looked about as if this was the first time nonetheless.

It had been rather impromptu, but could this be considered a date…?

At the height of her excitement, instinct seemed to kick in. Innate and bodily, before she could catch herself. That feeling of yearning within her gut, as suddenly and abruptly, her stomach growled. Her face flared red, bright eyes darting over to Gawain in hopes that maybe, by the grace of whatever gods ruled this place, he didn’t hear. Perhaps he’d think it was something else? After all, Servants didn’t need to eat- it was simply a matter of habit and regaining energy. It was strange for one’s stomach to growl in a place like this.

“You know, my sister always applauded my cooking skills, Lady Barghest.” He said, coolly, without missing a beat. “I ate lunch with my companions earlier today, but I didn’t see you in the cafeteria. You know, it’s no good to skip important meals, as Percival would say.”

His voice was low and comforting, and she felt a chill run down her spine and another pang of hunger. She swallowed hard, feeling the inside of her chops begin to slicken with saliva.

She was reminded, swiftly, of what she was. It didn’t matter how pretty the dress was, or how excellent a host that Sir Gawain was, she was still nothing but a monster that was driven by hunger. She locked her lips shut, turning away as she covered her mouth with her hand as she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes,

“Lady Barghest, are you okay?” He asked, concern filling his voice.

Lips squeezed shut, and her head still firmly turned away, she forced a nod and squeaked out a yes.

‘No, I’m not… I want… I want’ echoed in her head, what she truly wanted to say. Even this much was too much for her? Was she truly so feral that her desires manifested so strongly, even in the presence of such an innocent activity?

She didn’t go on dates. She had never been on dates. Not pure, innocent ones where they exchanged flowers and gifts, and then returned home. She brought lovers into her bedchambers, and then turned lovers to scraps.

She wanted him in her bed. She barely knew a thing about him, and she wanted him to cry out her name with every emotion in his body.

Shame washed over her, nothing but the purest sense of shame.

“Lady Barghest…”

A light touch on her bare arm. Strong, gentle hands… the hands of a man much, much kinder than her.

It was too much. Her body acted before she could think, and luckily in her favor as she vanished into her Spirit Form and swiftly retreated, leaving behind.

She reappeared in her room, dropping to the ground in exhaustion.

The room was empty. Dark. Thank goodness. She crawled over to the reflective, metal walls of it, staring at her faint reflection in the darkness.

Hulking and beastly. The careful blue tint that she had precisely manifested in her irises to emulate the beautiful hues of her namesake were replaced with violent, crimson hues. A trickle of saliva trailed out the corner of her pink lips, as she swallowed hard before gasping and panting, her mouth agape revealing a row of glistening fangs.

Her breath was low and heaving, rasping as her tongue ran over the surface of her teeth, her mouth imagining what her mind was trying desperately to avoid.

She didn’t go after him. It was okay. She had left before she did something she regretted.

A few moments passed, that seemed to last far too long as she stared at herself in silence before--

A knock.

“...Lady Barghest, are you there?”

She remained silent, staring at the thin line of light from under the doorway, the shadow of Gawain’s feet slipping in. A moment passed, as he didn’t leave yet. Another knock.

A minute. Two. She sat in silence, looking over at her reflection. The real her. Not the pretty doll that they had made of her. She wanted to swing open the door, drooling maw and all, and make him see- make him see the actual her. She scooted over to the door, sitting with her back against it. She kept the door shut.

As long as he couldn’t see her, he’d imagine a woman. He’d imagine a maiden, and he’d be a knight to her. If she hid, then she wouldn’t be the monster that she saw in the reflection. She could lie. She could pretend.

“I’m sorry, Sir Gawain… I think… I’m not feeling well.” She managed to creak out, her voice sounding dry.

A pause, before a response.

“...Another time, then?” There was uncertainty in his voice.

“...Maybe.”

“Do you want me to stay--”

“No.”

Her response was quick. Sharp. Perhaps it sounded cruel, such swift denial to genuine kindness. She could hear his feet shuffle with hesitation, before he simply began to walk away, and she remained where she sat, alone.

She didn’t feel bitter about it. Of course he left. She had asked him too, and no knight would deny the wishes of a maiden.

She could imagine him. Have all the dreams she wanted. She couldn’t hurt him then. That was how their relationship should be. Fellow Sabers in reality, and she would keep her wishes locked up tight.

She sat in her pity, before suddenly she heard something shift, and her door slid open with a thunk. She fell backwards, letting out a girlish squeal as her back hit the floor- she prepared herself for a brief complaint or apology to Ibuki, depending on what mood the snake goddess was in, but instead…

…she stared straight upwards at Sir Gawain, holding one of the administrative passkeys, looking down at her with a smile. A bright, open-minded smile that reminded her of the sun in the most pleasant of ways.

And he spoke, confidently, as if speaking the wisdom of the gods.

“A knight never leaves a beautiful woman alone, you know.”

And this was the first glimpse she got of the real Sir Gawain.

A beautifully stubborn, bullheaded man that shone like the sun.