The Descent

You wake up at 6am sharp, as with any other day.

You have a pretty solid routine by now; for an hour or so, you do your morning workout. At 7am, you take a shower, clean yourself of sweat, get dressed, take your meds...

take your meds...?

You blink at the medication blister in your hand. It's empty, the last pill having been consumed yesterday. You look into your purse. Shove your hand in it for good measure, patting every nook and cranny.

It's no use. As of today, six lostbelts since the world has ended once more, you have officially ran out of suppressant.

Ah, fuck.

Your first reflex is to make a mental note to inform medical bay about it. They've been quite busy recently, cobbling together painkillers and basic medecine from essentially vinegrar and a shoelace, but surely they can...

...

Actually... do you need suppressants?

It's one of these things you've taken all your life without really thinking about it. Your parents take them, your neighbours took them, your classmates took them. You have never witnessed a single heat or rut in your entire life. Sure, you've read romance novels, read about feverish confessions and profound intimacy... but let's be real; these are hyperboled, fantasies written by people who have had as many ruts as you've had, which is to say a big fat zero. Hell, you're pretty sure Mash doesn't take any meds at all, and she's an omega. If heats were a real threat, she would be under suppressants just like you.

Well, if you start feeling weird, you'll hit up the medical team. For now though, they already have enough on their plate.

Confident, you toss the blister in the trash, and head out to breakfast, and get ready to do your chores for the day.

---

You wake up at 6am sharp, as with any other day.

You have a pretty solid routine by now; for an hour or so, you do your morning workout. Push-ups, pull-ups, simple stuff even someone like you can do. Usually, you're a bit tired by the time you're done, because, well, that's what exercise does to a person. You don't feel particularly worn-out today, though. Are you finally building up your stamina? Took you long enough. You really need to get better at this faster.

Regardless. You clean up, as you usually do, then head out to breakfast. You get a generous serving of rice, miso soup, fish, and a couple boiled eggs. Archer quirks up an eyebrow when he sees you make off with your plate. "Hungry today, huh?"

Huh. Now that he points it out, that is quite a lot more than what you'd normally get. You shrug at him. "Gotta get those nutrients!" You respond with a smile.

Today is a farming day. The simulator is, overall, painfully uneventful. Arash, Merlin and Ajuna Alter make short work of those dreaded doors, and you're out by lunch. You're not all that hungry, probably courtesy of your heavy breakfast. Still, you're not always the greatest at perceiving your own physical needs, so you head to the cafeteria regardless. You greet the servants you meet on the way, Darius, Voyager, Anastasia-

You freeze on your feet.

It takes a few seconds for her to notice you. Artoria, (Caster, she who chants, your best friend) waves at you, a bright smile on her face. "Ritsuka! Hello!"

You know her face well, of course- it's quite the popular face, in Chaldea. Yet, for some reason, you find yourself staring; her little button nose, the freckles under her eyes, the curl of her locks over her ears, the weight of her contract against your soul.

"Hey, don't just ignore me."

You blink. Ah, right. "Hello, Artoria." You smile back at her. You don't normally see her before lunch; she likes to sleep in, and though you know she'll come if you ask her to, you think she deserves the small luxury of sleeping whenever she wants. "Sorry, I was distracted. Did you change anything today? A new haircut, maybe?"

"... No?" She scratches her hat. "Why?"

Huh. Odd. Ah, well. You shrug and tell her the truth: "You just look especially pretty today."

You do her a favor and look away as you speak, but you can perfectly imagine her blush in your mind. Ah, she's so easy to fluster. It's always a pleasure to get her frazzled. And hey, you do mean it; she's a snack! She needs to realize it already!

She gets her bearings quickly enough, and the two of you get in line. She goes first, because you like to have some time to decide what you'll eat, and she likes to take basically everything on the menu at once. You look at her listing off to Tamacat all the dishes she wants to sample, and a smile breaks onto your face.

"So, Master, what will it be for you?"

"I want to feed her."

"I'm... afraid we don't serve that here."

You blink. Turn your head. Boudica stands in front of you, still waiting for your order. "Ah. Erm. I'll take a galette with ham and cheese. And a kouign amann."

She nods, ruffling dishes around. "I get you, though. The urge to provide for your loved ones, right?"

Provide. You like that word. It's quite versatile. Provide. Yeah, you want to do that. Give her food, give her shelter, give her whatever fits her fancy. You want her to be happy, damn it; she's long overdue this soft epilogue.

This is impossible, of course; the world is ending as you speak. Its salvation means her dismissal. But, if nothing else, you can share a meal with her, before the two of you go back to farming.

---

You wake up at 6am sharp, as with any other day.

You have a pretty solid routine by now; you start by taking a shower, cleaning yourself up, and generally taking care of yourself. Then, for an hour or so, you do your morning workout. By 8am, you're ready to head to breakfast, as you usually do.

Archer quirks up an eyebrow when you come in to order an omurice. "Your shirt is backward."

On the side, Tamacat sneezes. "You smell like sweat. You ought you sleep with less blankets, Master!"

Huh. Really? You give yourself a sniff. Indeed, you do stink quite a bit. Odd. This has never happened to you before. Is your shower broken?

Ah, well. You've got chores to get to, so the gang will have to deal with you being smelly today. Least you can do is fix your shirt though. You grab the hem and pulls it off, then pull it back on again.

For some reason though, Archer is staring at you with wide eyes when you turn back to him. The entire cafeteria is quiet, actually; a quick glance around informs you that a good half of the people present have stopped eating. Is your smell that much of a bother?

There's the click of silverware, and Tamacat hands you your omurice. "You have a nice rack." She nods wisely.

"Aw, thanks!" You mean to smile at her, but something stops you. For some reason, it seems like an innapproriate thing to tell someone. You can't for the life of you remember why though, so you brush that thought off. You've got shit to do today.

Your daily chores come and go without anything to note. You farm some material, run some errands on Sion's behalf, and even help Jack find some knives she'd lost. It's a perfectly normal day in Novum Chaldea, like there are been thousands of before.

The problems arise during your meeting with the Casters.

It's a weekly thing; you all meet up, and discuss strategy. These are always interesting meetings; while not always morally upstanding, they're always creative in figuring out new synergies, and more than once you've been saved by the vague memory of a stray comment from the likes of Shakespeare.

The issue, however, is that you cannot seem to fucking focus.

"Golems are ideal for fighting in narrow, enclosed spaces." Avicebron speaks on your left, idly passing his golem manifesto across the table. While it's mostly ignored, some people still pick up the pamphlet to read it. Babbage. Helena.

Artoria.

Caster, she who chants, your homie, to be clear. When she lifts the paper up, her sleeves slides down, ever so slightly. There is barely an inch of skin visible between that sleeve and her gloves. It's driving you insane.

"Golems are bulky by nature, though." Nitocris points out. "I understand the appeal of summons, but if one is to fight in a tunnel of sorts, bringing more people to the fight will only lead to cutting off escape routes."

This feels almost indecent. That small patch of wrist. Isn't it dangerous to leave out in the open, anyways? Wrists are among the most sensitive parts of the body. Might as well walk around tits out, at this point. You have half a mind to get up and pull her sleeve back down, lest she might attract unwanted eyes.

"Golems come in all shapes and sizes. This is not an issue if you stick to smaller golems. Master, back me up on this."

Hm? Well, that is true. Still, remains the initial problem of overcrowding a tunnel WILL put you to a disadvantage, so you'll have to put your veto on that one. "I need her skin in my mouth."

You don't see Avicebron's face. That being said, you've known him for long enough to recognize when he sounds taken aback: "... come again?"

Why is he surprised? You thought you were clear enough? "The size of the golem isn't the problem so much as it's the quantity," you elaborate, "in an enclosed space, well, space is a rare ressources just like weapons or skills. Filling it with golems, however small, seems like a bad move to me."

"I... see?"

Well. You're a bit out of it today, but at least you clearly aren't the only one!

---

You wake up at 4am sharp, as with any other day.

You have a pretty solid routine by now; for an hour or so, you do your morning workout. You're hyperaware of every stretch of your muscles as you exercise. You feel like you could do this forever. You're filled with so much energy it feels like it'd overflow if someone poked you with a fork. Staying in your room feels pretty lonely though, so you leave as soon as you're done.

Weirdly enough, the cafeteria is completely empty. No one is eating, and no one is cooking. You look down at your own stomach. Well, you're not hungry anyways, so it doesn't really matter.

For some reason, you think back to Artoria's face, the last time you came to eat together. An idea spawns in your brain. If no one else is using the kitchen- well, perhaps you can?

Confident in your plan, you jump over the counter, take out the flour, and get baking.

You don't know how long you spend here, kneading, mixing, making loaves of bread after loaves of bread. It's harder than it looks; on your first batch, you add too much water. On your second, too much salt. On the third, the dough simply refuses to rise. Still, you refuse to give up. You're in the middle of your fourth batch when someone finally walks into the cafeteria.

Archer stares at you for a moment. "... What ■■■ you doing here?"

"I'm cooking!" You reply, though it seemed obvious to you. What is he doing here? He's late! He should have gotten here before you did!

He looks up at the clock on the wall, then back at you. "How long ■■■■ you been here?"

You have no idea, and you don't particularly care, so you shrug. You don't know how he reacts to that. You're already back on your bread. Fourth time's the charm, right?

You don't seem him walk up to you. You only feel his hand set on your forehead. "You're burning hot."

Huh. Are you? Good to know.

"Master. I ■■■■■ you're sick. You should take a break for the day."

Nonsense. You're feeling perfectly fine! You can't remember the last time you've felt this good. And besides, you don't have time to laze around. Your people need you. That's what it means to be a master. You need to make sure your entire team is cared for!

"The kitchen crew will ■■■■ sure everyone is well-fed. You don't have to worry about that."

Well. That's fair, you suppose. Still, you find yourself disheartened, for some reason. You really wanted...

Archer pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'll teach you ■■■ to make decent bread and I'll let you hang around for breakfast. If you promise to rest afterwards. No farming, no exercising. ■■■■ rest."

You perk up at that. Yes! Yes!!

The rest of the kitchen staff trickles in, little by little, and then the first servants of the day. As promised, Archer spends some time teaching you the proper proportions, how long to wait, how much to knead. You fumble quite a lot, but who can blame you? You're so excited! Asterios is the first one to make off with one of your buns, and you can't stop yourself from grinning from ear to ear at the look on his face. Success! Success! You shall bake more. More. More. More.

You're just unearthing a fresh new batch when she shows up, long past the initial breakfast rush. Artoria (Artoria, Artoria, Artoria! You want to sing her name, yell it at the top of her lungs, carve it into the background noise of the world. Artoria, Artoria, Artoria! Caster, she who chants! Who else could you mean? Who else could matter?) comes up, ready to list an absurd list of things she'd like to eat, you drop a steaming bun in her plate.

"It's for you," you say. You made it for her. You've been working here all morning for her. It's for you. It's for you. It's for you.

She smiles at you, and you know with absolute certainty that you would offer her the moon on a silver platter if she so asked. "Thanks, Ritsuka!"

---

You promised that you would rest for the day after breakfast, but it's... difficult. You don't feel tired at all. You feel the opposite of tired. Trying to sleep makes you restless. Reading is stupidly hard, the letters dancing on the page instead of forming sentences that make sense. Exercising is fine, but for some reason, it makes you feel breathless and uncomfortable after a while. You waste most of your time cleaning up and grooming yourself.

When you finally leave for dinner, you feel a caged animal that just got released. God, you're so glad to be out and see people again.

" ■■■■■■■ better, Master?"

You don't feel any different than this morning, but you nod at Iron-and-Spices all the same. "All rested and ready to go!" You smile at him.

That seems to satisfy him. Good. You don't want your people to worry for no reason. He passes a dish to Cat-and-Fox without looking. He opens his mouth to speak again, but that's when you smell it.

Steel. Earth. Farm and forge all in one. That scent feels muted, a background noise, but you would recognize it anywhere.

You turn around to hunt it down. Where is it? The smells comes from corridor. Where is it? Vaguely, you're aware that hands are coming after you, trying to hold you back, but you shrug them off. Whatever people want, they can wait. Where is it? Where is she?

And finally: you find her, on her way to the cafeteria. Artoria, Caster, Forge-and-Grain, the star in the night sky of your life. You trot towards her, and take hold of her hands. "Artoria! Hiii."

She blinks up at you, seemingly surprised. "Hello ■■ ■■■ too...? We haven't ■■■■ each other since ■■■■ ■■■■■■■, ■■■■'■ true. How ■■■ ■■■■ day?"

Boring as hell. Awful, really, now that you look back on it. How can a day without seeing her be anything but miserable? "Much better now that you're here." You respond honestly.

She frowns, ever so slightly, then takes a hand out of your grip to bring a hand to your chin. You can't help the purr that rakes your body. Her touch is cold and feather-light, like the flat of a blade. Oh, what you wouldn't give to warm her up!

"Ritsuka. ■■■'■■ drooling."

Are you? Now that she's pointing it out, your chin does feel a bit weird. You don't really see why it matters though, so you only shrug.

Her gaze moves away from you, instead looking right next to you. There are hands on your shoulders, you realize. Someone else speaking. Why is she paying attention to them? That's unfair! You came to talk to her first! She's your friend! You barely restrain a pout. You want her to pay attention to you too! All you can do is stand here and hope she's done listening to that other guy soon. You really want-

someone else sets a hand on her shoulder, and an anger unlike anything you have ever felt sparks in your chest.

You don't think. You pull on her hand violently, making her stumble right into your chest. You wrap both arms around Artoria, hugging her with all your might, bare your teeth a Wool-and-Salt, and growl from the bottom of your lungs.

You feel sick satisfaction when the mage flinches, clearly surprised by your display of power. Good. That's your friend. She ought to remember that.

"R-R-Ritsuka?!"

Artoria's voice, right against your breast, is what snaps you out of it. What are you, a pup?? She's not your mate. You didn't even ask her yet if she wanted to be! Oh god, your courting game is abyssimal. You let go of her and quiet your growl to a low rumble instead. A much more appropriate way to express displeasure.

You feel yet another hand on your arm, but this time, you feel compelled to look. Sunlight shines in your heart. Mash! That's Mash! Your beta! Your second in command! Your right arm! Your...

"Senpai. ■- I ■■■■■ ■■■ should ■■ ■■ the infirmary."

Her arm is bare. Why is it bare. Why is it bare. Her skin is smooth and pristine, free of any injury- and, most importantly, of any bite. Why is that. Why is that.

"■■■'■■ worrying me. I- I think ■■■ ■■■■■■ rest ■■■ ■ bit."

Did you not bite her?! Dread dawns on you, like ice poured down your spine. What kind of alpha are you, not giving people the assurance of your pack?! Oh, that's terrible, you're terrible. You must fix that immediately.

"... Senpai?"

"One moment." You tell her. You let Artoria go so you can pick Mash's hand. It feels strong, just slightly calloused where she holds her shield. You would recognize this hand anywhere, even blind and deaf, even in the depth of hell. Your story started by holding this hand, and you fully believe it will end holding this hand as well.

You bring it up, line her wrist to your mouth, and you bite.

She cries out when your fangs pierce her skin. It must be painful. But you can't let go. You have to give her something that will last. You must make up for all the time she's spent with a bare skin and a bare heart, unaware of how much she means too you. You keep your jaws clamped shut around her until you're sure it'll bruise, until all you can taste is copper on the back of your tongue.

When finally, you let go, you swallow, lick the blood off her wound, and smile at her. "You were saying?"

---

Mash brings you to the infirmary. You're not really sure why, but if she asks it of you, it must be important. Much as you want to stay with Artoria, you trust Mash with your life- if she takes your hand, you'll follow, regardless of circumstances.

They run a bunch of really boring tests on you. Everyone keeps talking with stupidly complicated turns of phrases and concepts, you can't follow. The best you can do is stay docile and let them take your blood and prod you all over.

But you're getting impatient. Impatient. Impatient.

Eventually, the medical staff leaves, muttering between themselves. Mash takes your hand, a soft smile on her face, and she tells you: " ■'■■ ■■ back soon, ■■■■■■■?" You nod, and, reassured by your answer, she leaves the room as well.

You immediately force the vents open and slither out.

You know Chaldea's ventilation system quite well- it's your go-to place of choice when you are feeling overwhelmed and you need to hide from people. You can easily find your way to your room. You drop onto your bed, grab a pack of snacks underneath it, and climb right back on.

Your next stop is obvious. You drop in, sit on the bed, and wait, kicking your feet in the air. You don't know how long you stay like this, measuring time by the swaying of your body left and right- until, finally, Artoria comes back.

"... Eh?"

"Artoria!" You jump on your feet to greet her. You want to hug her again. You want to drag her close to you and keep her against your skin forever and ever. It would be improper though, so you settle for simply grabbing her hand and pulling her in. You do a little spin as you do, which you hope shows off your physical capabilities and your relative grace. If nothing else, it allows you to kick the door closed on the way. You'll make it up to Mash later. For now, you just want to spend time with your friend.

"I- ■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■- How ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■-?"

"I wanted to see you." You nod to yourself. Then, before she can asks any more question, you hand her the snacks you picked up earlier. "I brought you this!"

She looks down at your gift, obviously confused. Your heart sinks, but you soldier on. You'd have preferred to give her a fresh kill, or some of the bread you made earlier, but there are no hunting ground around, and going to the cafeteria is a sure way to get dragged into unrelated stuff again. You love your pack! You really do! You care for all of them! But... this is important. This is important to you. You can be a little selfish sometimes, right?

Finally, thankfully, Artoria accepts your courting gift. You can't help a sigh of relief. Artoria doesn't miss that. You can't read the face she makes.

"... Ritsuka," she articulates carefully, taking your hand (your hand! She's taking your hand! Oh gosh. You want to hold it forever.) "■■■ ■■■■ ■■ go ■■ ■■■ infirmary."

Huh? You tilt your head to the side. "I was just there. I'll go back later." Does she not understand? "I wanted to see you," you repeat again, in the hope that this time the message comes across.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, for some reason. Is she upset? Has anything upset her? You can already feel your lips pull back to show teeth. Who do you need to bite? Who should you bark out for- "Ritsuka. You. Bed. Now. "

... What?

"■■■ ■ ■■■■■■■?" She points at her bed. "Get ■■ ■■■■■."

Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. You are this close to purring like a chainsaw.

Still, a remaining doubt nags at you. She's a fairy; she doesn't know what she's saying; maybe you mistunderstood? "You want me to get into your nest?" You ask to make sure.

There's a slight pause where she looks at the bed, then back at you, then nods.

Really? Really really really for real? This can't possibly be that easy. You've barely proved your worth as a mate! Does she trust you so much that she doesn't require you to show her that you mean it? "You want me to get in your nest with you?"

"If ■■■■'■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ settle down, ■■■■ ■■■."

You frown. "Say that again?" Why does everyone insist on saying complicated stuff today? Split your fucking sentences! It's fine! Much easier to understand!

She hesitates for a second, then replies with: "Yes." See? Much easier to communicate this way-

Wait. That means- that means-

Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. You're so giddy your chest is rumbling. Well, if you're invited, you sure won't turn that down!

You slide under the blankets. God. Fuck. It smells just like her. Iron and sparks and hay. You almost bury your head in her pillow to take a deep breath- but then her body slides right by your side, and you are rightfully distracted from it.

You waste no time hugging her again. She lets out an adorable squeak when you do so- though, you take it as a sign to not hold as tightly as last time, much as you want to. Fuck, she's so small. She's like a teddy bear. It's like you were made just so that one day, years in the future, in that exact moment, you could be here to embrace her.

Softly, you bring a finger to touch the side of her neck. You're so excited you feel like you're about to burst. You want to bite her. You want to bite her. You want to bite her. You want to bite mark claim her you want to take everything she has to give you you want to give her everything you have ever had you want you want you want-

Huh. Wait. Wait a second.

"Your skin's so thin." You note with a frown.

"... Yes?" She looks up at you, quirking up an eyebrow. " ■■'■ ■■■ neck. ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■'■ thin."

... Fuck. "I'll hurt you if I bite you." What to do? You can't risk splitting her carotid. The obvious solution would be to bite less hard, but- well, you frankly don't think you'll be able to control yourself if you get your mouth on her skin.

In your arms, she shrugs, and-

Pulls on her sleeve, uncovering the junction between neck and shoulder. "■ ■■■■■ here ■■■■■ ■■ best?"

You stare for a few seconds, barely able to understand what is happening. You don't even dare to breathe.

She briefly chuckles, music to your ear, but then she starts to pull the sleeve back, rescinding her statement-

You pull her closer to you, and before you can take it back, you bite.

You've never bitten anyone before- aside from Mash, as of recently, and this was absolutely not for romance. You've read novels, though- read descriptions upon descriptions of flesh wielding and souls connecting and a bunch of embarassing but heart-racing sap.

It's nothing like that. There's very little flesh and too many bones. It feels really hard under your teeth, like trying to chew your way through steel. It hurts your jaw and tingles your teeth and it's the single greatest pleasure you have ever felt in your life.

When you part from her, you glance down. The precise imprint of your teeth is carved against her skin. Pride swells in your chest. Finally, finally you-

You cry out when her palm lands against your shoulder, suddenly shoving you on your back. Within seconds, she's straddling you, and-

her jaws close on the side of your neck.

You're an alpha. You don't have mating glands on the neck the way omegas do; you only have vestigial things, shrunk organs that have never produced anything whatsoever. But when Artoria bites, it feels like she's sinking her teeth into more than your body; she's biting into your heart, into your soul, and you want nothing more than to let her devour you.

Of course. Of course. This entire time you've been thinking of her as someone to be courted, someone for you to take care of. You fool! You idiot! Her mouth is filled with fangs, and her nails are sharp as claws. How could she be anything but an alpha like you? She did not let you into her nest because you succeeded in courting her- she let you into her nest because she was courting you.

"■■■■■." She grins down at you, smug as a cat who caught you in her paws. "■■■ we're ■■■■."

You can't take it anymore. You lace your arms around her neck and pull her down to kiss her. Your fangs click together when you slide your tongue in her mouth.

God. Fuck. Fuck. You love her. You love her so fucking much. Artoria, Artoria, Artoria, Caster, she who chants, your friend, your lover, your mate, yours, yours, yours, yours. You love her so much it makes you dizzy, so much it's burning you alive, so much you could just devour her. You almost flip your positions and pin her down, so you can indulge in that slender neck, in those soft breasts, kiss your way between her thighs- but the tingle at your neck stops you. It would be quite rude to take up the dominant role when she clearly wants to partake too.

You'll have to learn to share, you suppose. Though- on second thought, you wouldn't mind letting her do whatever she wants to you.

When the kiss breaks, she's flushed and breathless, eyes wide at saucers. She sits back on your lap- and jolts as you whine. How could you not? With her weight right on your cock? Come on, master, my king, my owner, have some pity upon your pet!

"I," She stutters out, "I- I- I-"

A powerful purr rakes through your whole body. "I love you," you tell her. Words don't mean much, compared to a bite- but you want to say it nonetheless.

For some reason, she freezes up at that. Ah, well. She has always been prone to anxiety. Fine by you; you're perfectly happy to kiss her until she gets her bearings.

As for after, well... You let your hands wander back to cup her ass. You're down for whatever she wants, but if she takes suggestions... you really, really want her to drag her to sit on your face.

---

You wake up at 6am sharp, as with any other day.

Unlike any other day however, your body screams in agony as you so much as try to open up an eyelid. Holy shit, you feel tired, as if you hadn't slept in days. And hungry too. Fuck, you could eat a horse.

Your limbs feel sore. Unfortunately, it seems that Aescelpius was right, and you need to cut back on the workout. You can only hope that you didn't tear a muscle or something; you can't afford to be any more useless than you usually are.

On the bright side though, there is a warm weight over you, like a gigantic water bottle. It's so soft too! It's like it was made for snuggling. In fact, you ought to snuggle it right now; you raise both arms and hold it closer to you, earning a breathless giggle-

a giggle...?

You fight off the urge to go back to sleep, and, at long last, open your eyes.

Artoria sleeps on your chest, face relaxed, completely vulnerable. The sight would fill you with fondness, if completely vulnerable didn't imply stark-naked. You're so taken aback by what you're seen that it takes you a second to spot one bite on her shoulder. It takes you another to notice the dozen bites on both your arms.

Holy fucking shit.

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