Divine Hunger

Prior to Ritsuka, Artoria (Caster, she who chants, child of prophecy, ect ect,) hadn’t really interacted with any humans.

Nothing specist about it. Castoria dislikes people in general, humans and fairies alike. But there were no humans in Tintagel, so she knew way less about their innards than she does about the average fae.

Which is really a long way to say, she thinks she can be forgiven for taking this long to figure out what exactly is wrong with her friend.

“Ritsuka?” Her knuckles rap against the door. “Do you have a moment?”

She hears shuffling, then the door swings wide open. “Artoria! Always a pleasure to see you.” There are bags under their eyes, as it is sadly commonplace, but their smile is bright with truth. 

Artoria steps inside and closes the door behind her, discreetly casting a spell to keep it locked. No offense to the other servants (okay, a lot of offense,) but this is important and she really doesn’t want to be interrupted.

“You got good timing! Cat stopped by earlier with some experimental snacks.” They bend over to look under their bed, because of course that’s where they store snacks apparently. (And before anyone accuses her of hypocrisy, Artoria would like you to know that she does not hide any food in her room. If she gets snacks, she eats them all right away. No one can take away what has already been consumed.) “They’re like, nuts coated in chocolate, they’re pretty neat-”

“Ritsuka, are you possessed?”

Ritsuka pauses, for half a second. They straighten their back, casually. ( Lies.; they only appear casual. Stress. Fear. Confusion. That’s more accurate.) “I’m sorry?”

“I said,” Artoria walks close to them, “Are you possessed? Do you need an exorcist? Do you need me to kill someone?”

“No!” They whip around to face her, waving their hands frantically. “No no no no to any of that!” Truth, truth, lie. “It’s not really- I mean, I guess it is, but I’m not- it’s not-” their gaze darts to the door, then the window, and at last the vents. “How did you even-?”

There are a lot of things wrong with Ritsuka. Their shadow is often too dark and too thick. Their weight is inconsistent, lighter at times and heavier at others. Their skin sometimes feels too smooth regardless of any hair or scar, as if they were wearing a film or an invisible cloth over their arms. But what veered Artoria away from there’s weird servant stuff going on into there is something REALLY wrong is much simpler:

there’s an echo when they speak.

Not a literal one, mind you. Not one she can hear. Ritsuka speaks in a perfectly normal way with a perfectly normal voice articulating perfectly normal words (if with a slight accent she cannot pinpoint.) But it’s an echo she can see. An echo in the lies, that reflect two contradicting intentions, an echo in overlapping lie and truth at once, an echo with no sound that constantly invade her sight, and after months of rattling her brain over what could be the cause of this the only thing Artoria could come up with was there is more than one person speaking at once.

Ritsuka sits on their bed, dragging a hand across their face. “Sorry. I’ve never had to explain that one before. I don’t… know where to start.”

Artoria sits next to him. “First thing first. Are you certain it’s not dangerous?”

“They’re helping me,” Ritsuka says, which is not a no. “In battle and such. They give me advice on battle formations and such.”

The sentence rings true, but it’s frayed at the edge, the way lies by omissions often are. And such. That can mean a lot, and such. “What else do they do?”

Ritsuka shrugs. They seem dead set on avoiding the question. “So this thing is dangerous.” Go figure. Ritsuka always curry the favors of beautiful and deadly things. 

Artoria is willing to tolerate the likes of Douman or Koyanskaya, but she draws the line at being inside their head. As such, she gathers mana inside her palm, ready to-

“No no no!” Ritsuka grabs her wrist. “No exorcising, no blowing shit up.”

Artoria raises an eyebrow. “If it’s hurting you, I’m not giving you much of a choice.”

“It’s not hurting me!” Truth (genuinely believed) lie (but you should know better.) “They just- sometimes it takes me a few times to get a fight right, that’s all. It’s not pleasant , but I’m grateful for the extra chances nonetheless.”

That’s a truth, but not one that makes much sense. What does that mean, a few tries? Artoria has fought by RItsuka’s side. They rarely get more than one try at a fight, for the simple reason that if they lost, they would be killed-

It clicks, not as a sudden realisation, but as a slow, growing horror that this would be something really fucked up. Oh, fuck, that could actually be it. Oh, FUCK, she thinks it might be it.

“Ritsuka,” she asks, very, very slowly, voice burning with ice, “are you telling me this thing rewinds time anytime you die.”

Ritsuka shifts uncomfortably and looks away.

“How many times.” When her demand is met with silence, Artoria reaches out to grab their arm. “ How many times, Ritsuka. ”

“I don’t know.” Truth (they lost count) truth (it never cared to count.) 

Anger flares in her guts like violent flames. She wants to hit. She wants to kill. She wants to chuck a bomb at this thing. Who does that? Who fucking does that?! Who would deny someone the simple escape route of death- who would force someone to keep going again and again and again and again through countless pains through endless suffering who would be cruel enough to force someone to live with the memory of being killed?

“It’s not like that,” Ritsuka says, because of fucking course they do. “They would let me go if I asked, I think. They’re only giving me this for as long as I wish for it. And,” they have a small smile, “I do wish to live.”

So it’s some demon taking advantage of their desire for- what? Amusement? She grinds her teeth. She still wants it away from her friend. “What even is this thing?”

“They don’t really… speak. Not like people do. So I’m not quite sure.” Ritsuka tilts their head to the side. “I think they’re an Outer God. You know what these are, right?”

Vaguely. The Chaldean summoning ritual filled her on these sorts of things. The general concept of god is still one foreign to her, but if nothing else, she still remembers Cernunnos, still remembers this creature so massive it wasn’t even aware that it’d died yet. Granted, Ritsuka doesn’t need any help to get pumped full of curses, but that still doesn’t convince her that this thing should be allowed around any longer. “Yes. And this one seeks you as a vessel… because?”

Ritsuka is silent. For a moment, Artoria thinks they’ll dodge this question too, but before she can asks again, they answer: 

“They love a lot. I can tell. But… they’re a god of war, you know? They know nothing but battle. They can bring nothing but violence. They’re a herald of blood, but they want to be so much more than that. That’s what they want to use me for. I am fine with that.”

Ah.

For all her anger, Artoria cannot argue against that. She knows all about people who try to be more than what their purpose wants them to be.

“How can you tell it’s love?” She tries, a last-ditch attempt, even if she already knows it pointless. (That last tirade sounded like truth and truth. )

“I know all their emotions. They can’t speak, but they feel. Oh, Artoria, how they feel. ” Ritsuka sets a hand on their chest, above their own heart. “They loathed Britain. That was annoying. When our feelings clash, it can be distracting. They love the servants. I love them too. When we feel the same, it echoes, it amplifies, it grows so much it sometimes spills. It’s not always better, but it is easier to cope with for me.”

That… explains a lot. About Ritsuka, as a person. “You did not hate Fairy Britain?”

“Oh, I did. But not to the point of wanting everyone dead. ”

(That’s the thing about Ritsuka, isn’t it? When they see someone in a pickle, they try to save them. It’s not that they want to save people necessarily. It doesn’t matter if the person deserves to be saved, or if they’ll live long after being saved, or if they’re someone they like or dislike on a personal level. If someone can be saved, Ritsuka has to save them.)

(Then again, Artoria supposes she’s not much better. To each their star. To each their wish. To each their reason to doom themself.)

She lets out a sigh. She guesses she can tolerate this thing… for now. “Can I talk to that… god, of yours?”

“Sure, just go for it. They’re always listening.”

Ew. Creepy. “Do you have nothing more direct? ”

Ritsuka pauses, looks at her, and frowns. “You’re not gonna try to set it on fire, right? Because the only thing that will catch fire will be my room. Again.”

“That was one time!” And a half. But she’s not admitting to that half. “Ritsuka, I swear to you, I will not try to cause grievous bodily harm to your pet god. I just want to talk. Really.”  

Ritsuka looks dubious, but they don’t comment on it. Instead, they sit up, and hit the light switch.

“Huh?”

“They show up sometimes when it’s dark.” They say, which doesn’t really explain anything, but Artoria is used to that from them. It is dark indeed; while it doesn’t take long for her to get used to it (she has good eyes, unfortunately) she can only really make out the outline of Ritsuka’s body. She won’t bump into any furniture, but she certainly won’t count Ritsuka’s eyelashes like this.

She feels the mattress tips. At first, she thinks that Ritsuka is leaning towards her. But soon she realizes that the outline is wrong; it fizzles out, blinks in and out of existence. Artoria reaches out, brings her fingertips to the “head.” The texture is smooth, and slightly oily.

She slams both hands on either side of that head.

“Artoria!” Ritsuka yells from behind the thing, but she doesn’t care. She adjusts her grip on the creature. That head is long in shape, like a snout with no mouth and no eye. 

“Listen here motherfucker,” she hisses, “you hurt Ritsuka, you make them do anything against their will, and I will end you, got it?”

The thing spasms under her palms, though it doesn’t seem to back away. “Artoria, you promised!”

“I’m not hurting it.” She replies as sweetly as she can. “I am giving it a heads-up that you are my friend, and if it becomes a danger to you, I will wring its neck with my bare hands-”

She intends to add some more colorful threats, to make her point clear, but she gets tackled to the bed first. By pure reflex, she flips the figure over, straddling its waist to reach its neck- only to discover that Ritsuka was the one to body-check her.

First of all: holy shit, being a servant rules. Artoria did not have nearly as much raw strength when she was alive. Second of all, “You know, you could have just asked me to tone it down.”

Ritsuka chuckles. “R-right. I’ll, keep that in mind.”

…

Something’s wrong. They should be calling her out on her hypocrisy. Their voice is trembling. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine!! I’m fine, no worries!!” Lie, not fine, and truth, VERY fine (what the FUCK does that mean??) “Can you, uh, can you get off me? Please?”

“Hey, you’re the one who tackled me first.” She leans forward, pawing around to touch their face. Their cheeks are hot. “You’re acting weird.”

“I- I’m not! I’m normal. I am soo normal. I- I am the normalest person in- in Chaldea.” Haha, this one would be a lie in any circumstances. “Look, i’m just- a bit overwhelmed, you know, lot- lot of feelings, it’s, uh, no big deal, just, got me acting a bit unwise. They- they got angry and it prompted me to jump you. That’s it.”

… Well that’s an odd string of sentences. There’s a lie in here, that is unsurprising, but the rest of it rings true, and Artoria isn’t quite sure which is which. Is that god angry? That’d check out. But it should hardly be strong enough to force Ritsuka to attack her if they didn’t want to. Well, maybe Ritsuka did want to, but Artoria can hardly think of a reason why they would want to pin her down on their bed aaaand she really should word it differently because otherwise it sounds like-

Wait a minute.

“Look, I’m really, really sorry, I didn’t, mean, to do that, can you get off me? Please?”

Wait a fucking minute.

“I told you, when they feel something, and I feel the same thing, we amplify each other, I swear I’ll be more careful next time-”

“Ritsuka. Are you horny?”

They immediately stop speaking, the silence louder than any admission of guilt.

“... Holy shit.”

“Please kill me now.” They say, twisting their head away.

“Is that what you’re into? People threatening you?”

“No!” Their face snaps back towards her, though it’s too dark for her to read their expression. “But- you know- it was just, really sweet of you to worry so much about me? And- that old god, they like you a lot, and this reminded them while they like you, and it just, kinda echoed and snowballed from here.”

“… Please tell me your default reaction to anyone being mildly nice to you isn’t instant lust. Because otherwise. That’s a bit sad.”

“It’s not! But, uh, well, you’re really pretty, and you’re my friend, you can’t really, blame me for being attracted to an attractive person, right?”

… So it’s not their base state when faced with kindness, it’s their base state when faced with her?

What the fuck. What the FUCK.

“Listen, it really doesn’t have to change anything, I’m not gonna be weird about it just pretend it never happened,”

So Ritsuka finds her attractive. Ritsuka is attracted to her. Ritsuka, presumably, wants to have sex with her. To boink bits. To make love. To fuck. 

“W-well, I mean, if it weirds you out, I’ll respect that, I’ll keep my distance it’s fine it’s whatever makes you comfortable!”

How would that even work? On a technical level, she means. Artoria does know the theory of how sex works. But- well, she has no idea what Ritsuka is packing. Artoria isn’t the kind of freak who obsesses over what her friends carry in their pants, thank you very much. But now that the topic is on the table- do they have a dick? A pussy? Something else entirely? Are they a top or a bottom? Do they think about bending her over, or about her towering over them? Damn it, now she can’t stop wondering!

“I just, I’d really like us to stay friends at least-”

“Can I kiss you?” Artoria blurts out, interrupting whatever soliloquy they were in the middle of.

Ritsuka falls silent again. Then, really slowly, they nod. 

The kiss is a bit awkward. It’s hard to angle themselves right in the dark. Besides, it’s Artoria’s first kiss; she’ll be forgiven for fumbling through it. 

She loves it. She wants to do it again. So she does. She does. She does.

Ritsuka’s arms wrap around her neck. They’re warm, so very warm, and it’s like she’s been starving for years and she finally got fed some touchcontactintimacy. She gasps into their mouth, and oh, there’s tongue. Teeth catch her bottom lip, and, dimly, she realizes that they’re a tad too sharp for a human being.

Ah. Right. That divine parasite.

She means to sit up and hit the light switch, to banish this interloper back to the depth of Ritsuka’s mind. But when their lips part- she catches a glimpse of Ritsuka’s eyes. They’re shining. Human eyes aren’t supposed to shine, but- from that flicker of light, she can see how desperate they are.

“ Artoria ,” they breathe out. She’s the only one they call by that name. There are dozens of Arthurs in Chaldea, and Ritsuka calls them Arthur or Alter or Lancer, but never Artoria. That name is for her. “Artoria, Artoria, can we touch you? Can I touch you?”

What can she say but yes?

She vanishes her dress. She gets to be embarrassed of her nudity for a grand total of three seconds before Ritsuka sits up and latches on her exposed skin like the world is a desert and she is an oasis. They kiss her neck, her collaborne, her breasts. Their hands grab her hips. She feels another pair of larger, stronger palms around her sides, prickling her ribs with sharp claws. She’d be irked about it if the whole sensory experience didn’t feel so good. 

She shifts her hips for comfort, and something hard presses against the curve of her ass. She grinds back against it, and Ritsuka melts against her breast.

“That yours?” She asks, grinning.

“Ah, uh, mostly?” They part from her skin for a second, which gives her the opportunity to slide her hands under their shirt. Somehow, it has been unbuttoned. She learns the how when five inches in she  runs into another of these monstrous hands groping their chest.

“Oh.” Large fingers slide between her own. They feel smooth, like snakes or eels, in sharp contrast with the jagged scar splitting Ritsuka’s belly in half. “It’s jerking you off?”

“They, like, to help?”She can feel Ritsuka’s sheepish grin. Then, a little quieter: “They want to touch everything.”

Their hand comes up to cup Artoria’s face. “So do I. Can we eat you out?”

The thought makes her tingle all over, so she nods. Ritsuka leans back to lay on the bed again. Hands- more than two- pull her forward, drag her legs and hips and back all the way up until she’s sitting right above their face.

She swears when she feels their tongue on her. Ritsuka is kissing her with all their might, and it’s good it’s good it’s good. Then she feels another mouth by her thigh, a monstrous jaw grazing sharp teeth against her skin, and it’s even better. Holy fuck, this is nothing like touching herself. She understands why people swear to the divine so much in porn if their god can enhance the experience so much.

She moans. Loudly so. Fuck, she didn’t know she could be this vocal. Ritsuka’s hands are firm but gentle against her thighs. Their god is nothing but. Its grip is too tight, their claws and fangs too sharp; they bruise where they don’t break the skin. A little bit of pain is nice, she thinks, followed by what the fuck, followed by nothing at all because Ritsuka is sucking on her clit and she cannot think.

She comes with their name on her lips, hands in their hair.

Her legs feel like jelly, but she doesn’t collapse. She cannot, in fact; hands- more than two- flip her on her back, and suddenly Ritsuka is hovering over her, eyes shining silver.

“Artoria,” when she was alive, Artoria hated her name. To fairies, names, identity, purpose and fate are all the same. To be Artoria is to be the child of prophecy and a fairy of paradise, which you can brand as noble and heroic all you want, that really just means your life will suck and you will die early. But the way Ritsuka says it, affection care love- the way Ritsuka says it makes her feel like that name is more than just a tragedy. “Artoria, Artoria, can I fuck you please please please?”

“Not yet,” she responds without thinking, because she needs to catch her breath. Ritsuka makes a high-pitched noise and buries their face in the crook of her neck, pressing their body closer to hers and-

Okay. Okay.

That’s. A cock. Against her stomach. Leaking against her stomach, even.

“Is it… supposed to be this big?”

“Not… not usually.” She feels claws against her outer thigh, as if to add to the conversation.

So their god is buffing them up. That would be hilarious, if the thought of that going inside of her didn’t fill her equally with arousal and anxiety.

“Artoria,” Ritsuka kisses her pulse point, which calms her somewhat. “Artoria, Artoria, Artoria.”

“I’m right here.” She raises a hand to pet their hair. “Do you want me that badly?”

“ You have no idea. ” They hiss. “You make me feel like an animal.”

This rings true, in the basest, most literal way possible. Even without her eyes, she’d be able to tell; it’s in the way they’re hunched over her, it’s in the constant growl at the back of their throat. They’re above her, they’ve got a god at their side, and she’s the one in control here. The thought is more intoxicating than any alcohol.

“I’d do anything ,” Ritsuka kisses her jaw, “anything you want, if you’d let me touch you. I’d kneel before you. I’d offer my neck to you. Would you like that? Master. My owner. My king. Anything you want, anything you ask of me. Anything. ”

Whoa there okay slow down Artoria is learning a lot about herself today, her thoughts a wild roulette of they would look wonderful with a collar they would make a great pet and damn, she kinda wanna submit to them like that too though. Ritsuka kisses their left shoulder, and teeth sink in her right one, making her gasp.

“Now,” she breathes out, dizzy with want, “you can… do it now.”

Ritsuka raises on their knees, taking hold of her thighs. She feels their cock slide off her, and at  the reminder that this thing is fucking huge, she lets out a “be gentle though!”

“Of course.” They lean down to give her a peck on the lips. Something coils around her arm, splits into facsimile of fingers, and holds her hand.

Alright. Alright.

It doesn’t hurt at all. She was anxious, but she’s so wet, and they go so slowly- 

Fuck. She feels so full. So full of them. 

“Artoria,” they’re almost laying on her. She can easily imagine their weight on her, crushing her, driving her into the sheets. She kind of wants them to. She would rather die than show vulnerability to anyone else but fuck she wants Ritsuka to ruin her. “Are you okay? Is it good?”

She nods frantically- yes, yes, yes, “ Please move,” she asks, and so they do.

They start off softly, only speeding up when she asks them for it. They’re so soft with her, and she’s very much not; she claws at their back and pulls on their hair and bites at their lips, and every single time every single time it earns her an Artoria, Artoria, Artoria. Hands and mouths fondle her; first her upper arms, then teeth come for her calves, then palms get daring and hold her breasts, then a last pair of hands grab a fistful of her ass to lift her hips up.

“ Artoria, ” Ritsuka kisses her; then their lips part, and another tongue immediately finds its way in her mouth. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

That’s a lie, in the way anything is a lie when you don’t have the words to express them. It’s a lie not because it’s the opposite of truth, but because it’s too true, too deep for any language to define it. It’s a lie because they love too much for a simple I love you to be accurate, and Artoria has about five seconds to think about the implications of it before a divine tongue lands on her clit.

They come first, and the warmth of their mana is what pushes her over the edge. She bites down their shoulder to muffle her screams, holding onto them so tightly she feels blood gathering under her nails.

They collapse on her, breathing heavily. It should be uncomfortable, but she finds their weight grounding. She’s a bit sore, she feels more energized than ever. That was. Wow. That ruled.

She feels the bed tip on her right. When she turns her head, she sees the outline of a… she sees an outline. It’s… certainly shaped.

She reaches out. The thing touches her hand back. She’s become intimately familiar with that smooth skin by now. 

“I’ll still kick your ass if you become a bitch.” She breathes out.

The creature trembles under her fingers- in laughter, she realizes. The little shit. It withdraws slightly, towering over the two of them-

then it hits the light switch, and the extra weight disappears.

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