The tower of our family was never just a normal tower.

It was built by our ancestor. He was a great magus, who dared to reach for the pinnacle of perfection. But perfection needs time and he never had enough, so he agreed to become Undead. As his skill increased, he built the tower to be a sacred refuge. Not just for himself, but his family.

No, Undead Apostles can't have children. But he timed everything carefully and he had a wife and a small family when he became part of the Crimson Moon. Family lore says he doted on them and all his descendants. They were always welcome in the tower, which was a great and beautiful refuge.

In those days, the tower was pure magic and hostile to any intrusions, but it wasn't what it is today. Our ancestor died in it, a victim of his enemies, and his blood soaked into the stones of the tower. It was already magic and alive, so the blood of our ancestor changed it. It has become a dark and bloodthirsty thing. It doesn't need to eat to live – it feasts on the ley lines – but it wants blood. Oh, how it wants it.

Yet, our ancestor anticipated that the tower might outlive him and it cannot disobey his commands. The tower still serves the family and control of it passes to the eldest son of every generation. The tower was always meant to protect children so when my father dragged me here, he informed the tower that I was a child and to be treated as such. That's why it won't let me leave. The tower means me no ill, but it is ruthless in its protection.

I need the Grail to break the hold the tower has on me. I know exactly how to accomplish it – I've had so long to study the tower's numbers – but I lack the power. The Grail has the power and I have the knowledge. Together, we can make freedom a reality. Oh, you can go, don't worry about me!

I'll be perfectly safe.

Boss, I don't think this is a good idea, Robin continued their disagreement as he dithered outside the tower, hiding in the bushes. You know Caster is still alive! That was clear enough from what was happening to the ley lines. They knew where she was, too… she'd holed up in the cavern that the Grail would manifest in. It was a weird thing to do, though, for a Caster. The Grail was soaking up the energy of the ley lines there, leaving her with very little. Robin suspected Caster was no longer the one in control.

We don't have any choice! If we don't get rid of Saber now, we're never going to win this war, his Master said and Robin ground his teeth together. We can just wait for Assassin and Caster to emerge, they can't just skulk in there forever. Why couldn't they? Well, Robin supposed he could outlast them. You can set up all kinds of traps around the cavern and we can pick them off but Saber HAS to die.

"I just feel like this is a mistake," Robin muttered, feeling a deep uneasiness. Something was off. Assassin had let them go but why?

Stop dithering and just get going! Do I have to use a Command Seal? His Master demanded and Robin swore quietly.

"No, no, we don't have enough of those." They only had two left. "Be ready to pull me out if it goes to shit." That would be the main use of the Command Seal here, to yank him out if everything went to hell. Robin took comfort in that as he carefully moved on the Tower.

The entrance was trapped of course, with runic magic. Robin's Master handled that, working through his minion with the help of a remote rune that he'd bought from, of all people, the Numerologists. Robin wondered if they knew about an errant member entering the Grail War. The Grail only gave two passes to the Magus Association and Saber's Master was an unapproved third.

That wasn't his business though. Robin had to evade numerous traps, mystical and physical, as he made his way up the stairs. The dark stone felt odd under his feet, almost… crunchy? Robin frowned, reaching up to tug on his hood. As he did, he felt something very odd.

Robin? What is it? His Master asked and Robin flexed his fingers.

"My fingers feel tingly," he muttered, flexing them again and rubbing his thumb and first finger together. "…" There was no doubt, he was losing feeling. "Tsh…" It was a minor annoyance but weird. Archer felt his Master scanning him.

There's nothing wrong that I can see. Keep going, his Master urged him and Robin frowned but started moving again. Hmm, a well-camoflaged rune on the stair. Robin easily jumped over it, landing smoothly on the other side. These traps were pretty juvenile, honestly. Couldn't Saber have done better? But then, he was a Saber, not a Caster. It's a bit strange that we haven't found much in the way of Mystic Codes yet. Keep an eye out for that, they might be further in.

"Right," Robin muttered. Maybe that was it, the defenses would get tougher as he got further in. Robin moved quickly but smoothly, his feet making no sound despite the odd feeling of the stairs. After another flight, he stopped. There was no trap but… Robin tentatively tapped his foot on the floor. Master, I can't feel my toes. Robin tested his hands again and found they were getting stiff.

What the hell? His Master muttered and Robin was feeling very nervous as the man scanned him again. Wait… no, there is something. It was so subtle I couldn't pick it up. But what is it? Robin closed his eyes and concentrated on his body. Numbness was starting to move through his limbs and he was feeling cold… even as he thought that, Robin shivered. Oh my god! By the power of my Command Seal – Robin felt a deeper chill of fear as his Master's voice dissolved into garble.

"Master? Master!" Robin called, turning around as if he could somehow see the man. "…Shit!" He started to run down the stairs. Or rather, he tried, but then his numb feet tangled over themselves and instead he fell. Robin curled to take the fall and landed easily, but he lay gasping as he felt the cold invading his core. There was a terrible smell too and a nasty taste in his mouth… was that blood?

Then he heard footsteps and raised his head enough to see a girl walking down the stairs.

Saber's Master. Robin struggled to stand, shoving himself up on hands that felt like blocks of ice. As he did, he finally saw the woman Saber called Master. A tiny girl, cute but not beautiful, she had soft brown hair falling to her shoulders and wide brown eyes. She was wearing an old-fashioned gown, light purple and frilly.

"Oh, Archer. I thought it would be you. I'm not sorry you came, but I'm sorry about what's happening to you," she said compassionately and Robin knew he was grasping at straws but he had to try.

"Stop it! Please, save me and I'll swear myself to you, take your contract," Robin wheezed, feeling the cold infecting his lungs. Her eyes softened even more but she shook her head.

"I can't. Even if I had the mana to spare, it's too late," she said and Robin could feel a tug. "That won't work. Command Seals just aren't enough, unless you use three, and you don't have that do you?" No, only two were left and they were gone now, Robin could feel it. "Although I'm not even sure about three… this tower is so terrible." She was kneeling beside him and Robin would have laughed – he could easily break her neck! – but he couldn't, not when his whole body was turning to ice. And a white haze was building. "Archer… please, will you tell me your name? So I can remember you?"

"They called me Robin, but I'm Devin. Devin of… Loxley…" Robin forced out the words as a gentle hand touched his cheek. It was the last thing he felt before the ice invaded his mana core and that horrible stench smothered him in white haze and static.

Then there was nothing.

Sigurd was tucked warmly in his bed, sleeping deeply, when a voice spoke in his mind.

Sigurd, wake up. No, he didn't want to. Sigurd, you have to wake up. No! Feeling like a petulant child rejecting authority, Sigurd curled up more firmly in his blankets. He was safe and warm and happy, he wasn't going to wake up right now. I can't use a command seal for something so silly but you have to wake up. Small hands began prying at his cocoon and Sigurd muttered in irritation as cold air assaulted his body. He wasn't ready to get up, he could still feel the deep ache in his chest that signified terrible injuries in the process of healing…

"Sigurd, wake up." So insistent! Sigurd groaned and pried his eyes open to see Esme… kneeling over him? Even as his mind registered his position, Esme shifted and carefully rested her body against his. Sigurd blinked as her warmth replaced the lost blanket, with only a thin bit of fabric between them to keep it from being indecent.

Then Sigurd's sleep addled mind realized that wasn't right. There was no thin piece of fabric, nothing but soft skin. His eyes flared wide just as Esme pressed her lips against his. It was a soft, tentative kiss from an innocent girl and Sigurd felt intoxicated by it. He reached up to gently cup the back of his head even as he sent her a thought. This is how you kiss a man, princess. The kiss deepened, gentle but passionate. Sigurd loved every moment of it, along with Esme's body, pressed so teasingly against him.

"You need mana," Esme said breathlessly as they parted and Sigurd shook his head, holding her gently in his arms.

"No, I need you," he murmured in his ear, feeling the truth of it in his soul. "I am a widower now." Was this what the modern era called closure? Sigurd only knew that he would remember Brynhildr and always love her, but he was ready to move on. And painful as it was, that was right. "I love you, my princess, my darling Esme," Sigurd murmured and felt her shudder, saw a suspicious wetness in her eyes. He kissed her again and it held all the passion in the world. She was tense against him, though, and Sigurd could easily sense her fear. "Relax, princess, and let me show you how a man makes love to a woman."

"S-Sigurd… oh…!" Esme gasped as he reversed their positions. Just that small movement caused a sharp pain in his chest and Sigurd gasped, resting his forehead on the pillow for a moment. His arms shook as he took his own weight. "Oh, your injuries, Sigurd…!" Her hands were on his chest, helping to hold him up even as more gentle healing touched him, dulling the pain.

"It's nothing. I can do this," Sigurd said, lifting his head and gazing into her face. "I want to do this." Ah, how he wanted it! Ignoring the aches and pains and weakness, Sigurd lowered his face to her breasts. Tiny but beautifully formed, with beautiful pink tips, they tasted delicious as he began exploring them, drawing her nipples into his mouth. Esme's gasp was beautiful to hear.

The foreplay was not very active. Sigurd could not bear to move too much so he favored Esme with soft kisses, attention to her breasts, even as he slid a hand between her legs. Ah, she was damp but not enough. Sweet Esme was a virgin and Sigurd knew she needed more than that… Sigurd carefully hid his pain as he moved down to kneel between her legs. Esme lifted herself, settling on her elbows as she stared at him wide-eyed.

"Sigurd, what are you…?" she asked breathlessly and Sigurd smiled up at her as he gripped her thighs.

"I am going to pleasure you, princes," Sigurd said easily. Brynhildr had always loved it when he did this… the thought made him feel warm inside as he settled to his task. Her sex was soft and warm, as he teased her gently with his tongue, moving through her folds. Esme's gasp was sweet as he ran his tongue along that tiny organ that the Grail knowledge informed him was a clitoris. Sigurd paused to suck it, treating it very gently. Esme was making soft, sweet sounds and Sigurd gently eased a finger inside her. He wasn't expecting that to take Esme over the edge but it did and Sigurd was very pleased as he felt her sex quiver and flex, the tiny yet heartfelt cry she gave as her thighs clamped tight to his head. Sigurd teased her until he sensed that she was done, before pulling away. As he did, he paused to regard her with a smile. Esme had collapsed to the bed and was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and expression blissful.

"Was that your first orgasm, Esme?" Sigurd asked and she blushed before nodding. Sigurd smiled, moving back up her body. "I'm glad I was the one to give it to you," he murmured in Esme's ear as they lay together.

"I'm… glad too… but I still need to give you mana," Esme murmured after a moment and Sigurd chuckled softly before favoring her with another soft kiss. His own erection was aching with need for her, it was true, but he needed to give her a moment to recover.

"Indeed, we'll do that princess," Sigurd said as he held her close. Ah, his lovely Esme would be so wet now, perfectly ready for him. After giving her a bit of time to cool down, Sigurd began working on her again, gently exploring her mouth and breasts. When he judged that she was ready, Sigurd settled between Esme's thighs and entered her in a quick, smooth jerk.

"Oh…!" Esme's soft gasp mimicked his own, as Sigurd experienced an incredible heat and tightness. Ah, Esme was almost unbearably tight! Just like Brynhildr had been… looking into her face, Sigurd saw Esme was biting her bottom lip and there was a trace of dampness at the corner of her eye. He reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. "It… hurts… but feels… so good…"

"That's good… that's… good…" Sigurd managed to say before he began to move. His body had needs as well, he needed to satisfy them… Esme's gasp was not just pain, no, and Sigurd hoped the ache would fade quickly even as he began to truly take her. He needed this, ah, he needed it!

Fortunately his hopes materialized and Esme looked at him with lust hazed eyes as her thighs gripped him. Her passage still gripped him tightly but not as much, loosening a bit as he took her virginity away. Sigurd kissed her, passionately, as he continued to thrust into that tight heat, claiming his princess for his own. I love you Esme. I love you so much. There could be no lies at a moment like this and Esme shuddered beneath him.

Sigurd, oh Sigurd I don't deserve you my perfect prince I love you too I love you… Their emotions entwined with their bodies and Sigurd loved every moment as he brought Esme closer and closer to orgasm. He was getting their himself, oh yes, this pleasure was overwhelming any semblance of control and Sigurd found himself taking her hard and faster. No, he was losing control, this was too much… but Esme's gasps were of pleasure and Sigurd could not hold himself back. Then Esme cried out a second time, her sex tightening insanely around him and Sigurd gasped as pleasure overwhelmed his mind. Sparks flashed behind his eyes as he found completion, spending himself in his beloved princess. As he did, a tide, no, a tidal wave of mana rushed into his body. It was perfect and shining and Sigurd felt his wounds healing, the pain vanishing away.

Then exhaustion hit him and Sigurd slumped, barely managing to take his own weight. Esme's hand gently touched his cheek and she was the one to maneuver him onto his side and separate their bodies.

"You have a bit of time, but just a bit. Rest Sigurd, rest," she murmured and Sigurd wondered what the rush was. They surely had time… but he was too exhausted to question it, his body digesting the mana and using it to heal his wounds. Murmuring a soft affirmative, Sigurd closed his eyes and gave into the temptation to rest.

In a mere hour or two, he would be fully healed. He could question Esme then.