Under the Stage Lights

Artoria had always, perhaps naively, assumed that she hated the people of Tintagel.

It would make sense, wouldn’t it? They were awful to her. She certainly never liked any of them. What would she feel, if not loathing? What’s that bitter feeling at the back of her tongue, if not hatred?

Ritsuka writhes against Oberon’s hold, half biting, half kissing, full snarling, and Artoria’s fury only grows larger, stronger, hotter. She wants to see them sigh. She wants to see them cry. She wants them bruised and beaten and broken, thrown to their knees and begging for her forgiveness.

No, Artoria has never truly hated the people of Tintagel. She feared them. She disliked them. The thought of them filled her with ice. This is nothing like this, nothing the raging fire in her belly, like being burned alive and as she might scorch anything she touches.

She dives into the fray, sinking her teeth deep inside Ritsuka’s shoulder, and dully, she thinks: so this is hatred.

Ritsuka howls as she feels blood pooling against her tongue, thrashing violently against her. She refuses to let go. She’s let go of Ector she’s let go of her legal existence she’s let go of so much, this time she will hold on if she has to leave claw marks in her wake. If Ritsuka is to leave, then let it be known that she fought for this. If Ritsuka is to leave, then let them carry her everywhere they go, even in that other world of theirs, even in the depth of hell. You don’t fucking get to leave me. You don’t get to fucking forget about me. Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re my friend!

“Oh, fuck off!” Ritsuka growls. A hand grabs Artoria’s hair and pulls, suddenly jerking her off them. She tears a mouthful of fabric in her wake. Good. “What do you people fucking want from me?!”

“I want you to shut the fuck up.” Oberon growls on the side.

Ritsuka glares at him and snarls. “Tough luck, idiot. If you bark, I’ll bark back-”

They’re interrupted when she spits the piece of cloth right at their face. Briefly, she sees their blood staining it. Good. That’s a part of them that will never leave this world. Artoria opens her mouth, teeth bared, voice heavy with loathing, and for perhaps the first time in her life she speaks in complete honesty: “I want to hurt you like I have never wanted to hurt another human before.”

Ritsuka shakes their head until the fabric falls down; then, they turn to her, and purse their lips back in a cruel grin. “Then do you worst, Artoria. ”

She punches them, square on the jaw, and watches with intense satisfaction as their head rears back. But it’s not enough. They’re already glaring back at her. Taunting her. Nothing you can do can truly hurt me.

She’s not thinking. Her blood is boiling, steam rising in her head. She’s not thinking when she springs up. She’s not thinking when she lifts her skirt up. All she knows is that she needs to hurt them.

Ritsuka quirks up an eyebrow. “What, you think you can break me? With this tiny thing? Don’t flatter yourself-”

Oberon hooks too fingers in their mouth, and that sentence ends. “I told you to shut up. ”

They glare some more. They don’t make a single move to get away. As if this were only a mild inconvenience. As if none of this, Oberon, Artoria, their joint fury, was inconsequential to their life.

She grabs their head and promptly chokes them on her cock.

There is no build-up, no foreplay, no sweet nothings. She ruts their face like an animal, half hunched over them, hands twisted in their hair, every thrust a silent you’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine. I love you, I hate you, don’t leave me, you’re mine, I hate you, I hate you, I love you, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, don’t you dare don’t you fucking dare forget that you’re mine.

Briefly, she feels a hint of teeth against her skin- just enough to tear her back from the haze of her mind. She glances down. Oberon has taken his hands out of Ritsuka’s mouth. One disappears in Ritsuka’s pants. The other is set around their throat. “Tiny thing?” He has a cruel laugh. “Ritsuka, your throat is bulging.”

It spasms around her cock with every thrust, struggling to withstand the repeating invasions. She wants it to hurt. She wants it to bruise. She wants Ritsuka to feel it for days. She wants to mark them, ruin them, make it that even if they run even if they leave they will never forget that she laid her claim first.

Tears are gathering at the corner of their eyes. She can feel Oberon’s hand wrapped around their throat. This is the closest the three of them have ever been.

It’s so much, it’s too much, wet warm violent pathetic love loathing, Artoria cannot speak, she can barely think, overwhelmed by physical sensations and treacherous emotions. She’s a wild beast, reduced to her most base instincts. The one thing she has to stay sane is the sight of Oberon- but he’s no leash, no tamer. He’s a filthy enabler pressing his fingers on Ritsuka’s throat, massaging her through their flesh, encouraging her to be faster, rougher, break them apart, ruin them, hurt them like they hurt us. She wants more. She wants more. She wants more. She wants them hurt she wants them crying writhing begging she wants them dead she wants she wants she wants she wants-

The pleasure is almost an afterthought, in the face of Ritsuka’s cheeks strained in tears. Her peak crashes into her like a wave, taking her by surprise. She tries to pull out, parting away from that warm mouth-

-only for Ritsuka to lean forward, chase after her cock, shoving their nose against her pelvis.

Artoria isn’t quite sure what happens after that. She’s certain she blanks out for a few seconds. Vaguely, she’s aware that her legs are trembling. She does the prudent thing and let herself fall to her knees.

There’s a heavy cough. A snicker, cut short by an offended gasp. She raises her head, catching sight of Ritsuka kissing Oberon full on mouth- oh, fuck, there’s a dribble of come running down their chin, they’re kissing Oberon with-

Ritsuka pulls away, and Oberon is now the one coughing. “Gross!” He hurriedly wipes his mouth. His face is a furious red, from anger or shame, she can’t tell. “You’re fucking- gross!”

Hah! She’s already opening her mouth to make fun of him- but Ritsuka’s palm suddenly covers her lips. Something thick and salty covers her tongue. She whips her head back, tries to get away from them- without success. It’s only when she swallows the unknown substance that Ritsuka finally retrieves their hand.

“Now… Now we’re even…” Ritsuka smiles in a way that is intended to be smug. In practice, the effect is dampened by their red eyes and swollen lips. They’re breathing heavily, sweat rolling down their neck. It looks so thin. And she’d fit in there down to the hilt.

Ritsuka wipes their hand on their pants, attracting her gaze. Only then does she notice that their dick is out and glistening. Her eyes widen as she brings a finger to her lips. That means they made her swallow-

Ritsuka falls onto their back, chest rising erratically. Artoria stays put, catching her breath. She glances at Oberon. Oberon glances back. Something has shifted in his expression. No longer is he the Fairy King, the comedy side-character, the charming prince. He looks bitter and tired and rough in so many ways.

If Artoria truly did create him, then he was clearly made in her image.

There is a long, deeply uncomfortable silence. What can Artoria even say? Sorry for saying all that, I didn’t mean it? (She did.) Sorry for hurting you, I didn’t mean to go this far? (She had meant to do worse.) I hold love for you the likes of which you can’t even begin to understand?

(She does. But the hatred is real, too. The anger, the joy, the resentment, the jealousy, the bitterness. Ritsuka called her Pendragon on her ID, like king Arthur, like the hero; but no matter who she pretends to be, no matter who she is believed to be, the fact is that she is still this little girl from Tintagel; Caster, the witch, the nonhuman.)

“… Maybe we should talk about things, actually.” Ritsuka eventually speak up. Their voice is hoarse and quiet. Artoria feels unspeakable (shame) (pride) (guilt) (you’re mine) (you’re mine) (you’re mine) over it.

Oberon snorts bitterly. “Why? Not talking about things worked perfectly well for us so far.”

“It… quite literally did not.” She brings up tentatively. She shrinks when the other two suddenly turn to look at her. Hurriedly, she brings her hands up to hide her crotch, as if they didn’t get their fingers (or throat) all over it just a moment ago.

“You’re just cranky because hatesex is so much better than regular sex.”

Oberon has never acted like this before. Weirdly enough though- it makes Artoria feels a little more at ease. The banter rolls easily off her tongue. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever had one of these two.”

“… Wait.” Ritsuka raises on their elbows, peering up at her. “That was your first time?”

“And what of it?” She replies defensively. She had considered selling her body off the street initially, but she’d been a proficient enough burglar and pickpocket that she’d never had to do it so far.

Ritsuka swears under their breath, which is not only mildly offending, but also stupid as hell- out of all that just happened, this is what bothers them? She’s about to say just that, and maybe even chuck a shoe at them when they get on all four to crawl towards her…

But they do the one thing she would never expect. They lean towards her, and then, so gently she could have dreamed it, they press their lips against hers. There is no tongue, no teeth, no fire whatsoever. Just a soft sensation against split lips, and a tenderness unlike any she has ever known.

Oberon clears his throat. Loudly. “Hello? I’m still here?”

Ritsuka parts from her and glares at him. “And why are you still there? Come over here and kiss her too, you fool. She deserves a better first time than this.” They look at him over, up and down. “… And so do you.”

Artoria doesn’t know if the three of them will ever get to properly talk about things. She doesn’t know if they’ll ever be able to interact without tearing each other apart. Hatred, resentment, jealousy, possessiveness, they all three hold something ugly and twisted inside their chest, and they’re too perceptive to look the other way as it festers.

But when Oberon crawls to her and cup her cheek, face scowling yet hold infinitely gentle, Artoria knows one thing: there is love, too.

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