Summary: The "little flower" nickname had to start somewhere. It wasn't expected to originate from the darkest Avenger in Chaldea's roster. In his defense, it was the fighting style. And the shadow lurking inside their only Master's soul, even if most of the Servants didn't want to believe in its existence.

Note: This is a chapter inspired by the artwork of Pan/panyum and Caro/xviicprc on Tumblr — mainly because I know them both for being the Edmond Dantes lovers of the FGO Tumblr fandom and some of my first exposures to FGO as a whole. Even if I don't talk with them that often now (to where I seriously doubt they'd even see this note), what they accomplish with their artwork in the present day still inspires me. And I hope they find happiness somewhere, even if it isn't with me around.

The theme for this chapter is actually split up into three choices: (1) the opening version of Sanctuary originally done for Kingdom Hearts II by Utada Hikaru, (2) the slow arrangement version of Heartcatch Precure's opening theme, and (3) REALM from Void Chords, originally composed for RWBY Ice Queendom. I found all three fitting the tone I wanted to convey.

Please enjoy.

Day 47: Twisted Sanctuary

"Loading Simulator, Complete. Processing Enemy Data in 3, 2, 1…"

The man formerly known as Edmond Dantes watched as the surroundings around him changed, Spiritron fragments replacing the white and blue walls of one of Novum Chaldea's many training facilities with every second. As a Japanese-themed room took their place with long tatami mats and dim lamps, Vy — his new Master — took a fighting stance with her bo staff in hand, extending its tips to barely graze the floor. Across from her, more Spiritron fragments gathered to form a shapeless silhouette, barely visible to even Dantes from his vantage point.

"Enemy Data Generated." The computer droned from the speakers above, monotone as it added, "Commence Battle?"

The silhouette across from his Master suddenly took on the form of Christopher Columbus, smirk on his face and all, just as Vy said in a voice toeing the line of a growl, "Yes."

Without hesitation, Vy jumped forward, her staff sweeping outwards to immediately aim at the false Rider's neck, and all Dantes could do was watch in part wonder, part amusement, and part curiosity. Sure, the enemy in Columbus' image dodged, laughing all the while, but it didn't take much for said noise to stop once Vy changed her grip to aim for his nose. The Count had heard from the other Servants that this Master liked taking on her own battles when she could — to "lighten" the load from the Heroic Spirits who chose to answer her call, it seemed. But watching it in action was something else.

What the Count of Monte Cristo could remember of his time in that Demon Tower — before meeting Vy — felt much longer than the fight playing out in front of him. Yet seeing this Vy, and how she didn't hesitate to aim for the enemy's neck, chest, crotch, and other vitals — it was so different from the Vy he remembered from that Tower. Back then, she was hesitant, looking up at him and tugging on a corner of his mantle as if trying to find some kind of comfort even in his darkness, but she wasn't doing that now.

In nothing but a tank top and sweatpants, this Vy merely continued to advance on the false Columbus, slowly wiping the original smirk off the simulation's face with each furious swipe of her staff as her shoes stomped against the tatami mats in their own vicious dance. Sweat trickled down her neck and into her clothes as her ponytail swished against her back, moving like its own entity in time with Vy's every move.

Compared to that mousy version the Count had met in that tower, this Vy was stronger. Far more formidable.

Even…

Darker, a part of his mind hissed. More than the Château d'If.

Once the simulation of Columbus had fallen via a fatal stab to the chest, the blood spilling from his wound (most likely from a punctured heart — how brutal) started to evaporate into the Spiritron fragments that formed him, Vy puffing for breath atop his disappearing body as she held her staff steady. Her back was tall in spite of her hunched shoulders, her spine taut through her somewhat soaked tank top as she slowly withdrew her weapon, closing her eyes briefly as her ponytail fell forward to brush her shoulder past her neck.

Winded, but still fighting, the Count noted.

"Battle Finished," the computer added, the lamps from the Japanese environment fading in favor of the bright white lights from the original ceiling above. "Repeat Battle?"

To the Count's surprise, Vy stood up to shake her head, calling out to the computer with a quieter, "No. That's enough for now."

"Acknowledged," the computer said, the monotone voice dying down with the statement as the lights flickered from above. "Simulator Shutting Down in 3, 2, 1…" Mechanical whirring sounded throughout the room, drowning out Vy's next statement, but the Count could vaguely read her lips from her tilting her head upwards.

"Thanks, computer," was the general gist of her whisper, and the Count held back a scoff. Typical Vy. Thanking a computer for doing its job when she needed it to face a fear. Not that he didn't find it admirable. What he saw was most certainly an impressive battle, especially coming from a Vy whom he heard had hated Christopher Columbus with all of her being after the Agartha Singularity's resolution (to the point he was warned extensively by both Holmes and the little Da Vinci to never bring him up), but it was still a Vy would got tired easily. A Vy who anyone could get the drop on if they were careful enough.

It didn't stop him from feeling the slightest bit surprised when Vy tightened her grip on her bo staff, tossing her head back and saying in a louder voice past the fading mechanical noises of the simulator, "Is that you, Count?"

She noticed me, rang through the back of his mind like a loud gong through the residual shock, but the natural smirk on his face came in handy as he manifested himself. Vy didn't even flinch once he was standing in front of her, mantle sweeping out behind him as she raised her head to meet his gaze. "I was not expecting you to notice me, little flower."

"Oh, please, Count, you and I both know that's not entirely true," Vy retorted with a wry smile of her own, shaking her head as she loosened the tight grip she had on her staff. "After all, who was the one to follow me into Shimosa as a wandering missionary? While they didn't have an official contract at the time?"

"I do not have the faintest idea of what you are talking about," the Count followed up smoothly, choosing to ignore how Vy let out a quiet giggle in the wake of his answer. "But you certainly have grown more confident since our first meeting."

Vy still absently twirled her staff between her fingers, shrugging her shoulders. "You think so? I still feel like regular old me."

But the Count knows better. Even without the darkness of the Château d'If hanging at his coattails, he can see the change in the tension in Vy's shoulders, in the way she still held onto her bo staff like it was an extension of her arm.

Like she has chains hanging from her wrists, that same part of his mind hissed in delight. Like she is burdened with a weight far beyond that of even an old prisoner.

It is unknown even to the Count as to why his hand moves in the end. All Vy does is blink when his gloved palm eventually cups her cheek, tilting her head to make her meet his eyes. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose as the eye contact persisted, her voice coming out wispy in her confusion. "Count?"

"You weren't like this before," was the quiet fact that left his throat, and he doesn't miss how Vy tenses underneath his hand, her smile fading from her lips as a result. "You're moving closer towards your death now, aren't you?"

In that prison, Vy would've flinched away. But in Novum Chaldea, Vy merely closed her eyes, leaning into his palm with a careful breath before meeting his gaze again. "…What makes you say that, Count?"

Hmph. That wasn't the answer he wanted.

"Your skin was warmer before," the Count points out, not even able to feel his usual smirk tugging at his lips this time as his thumb reached up to rub at the nearest corner of Vy's eye that he could reach past her glasses. Vy closed said eye in response to his touch, her cheek puffing outwards in his palm, but he still persisted. "Never so hollow. There's muscle in areas that weren't present before and I am not the only one who has noticed your fading mana levels, Master."

"…Asclepius and Chiron are already helping me with that," Vy said in the same wispy voice, averting her eyes and turning her head slightly so that she wasn't meeting the Count's gaze. Not an outright denial, he noted to himself. Her absentminded twirling of her bo staff stopped in time with her adding, "Per their reports, I should be fine."

"Should be," the Count echoed, and this time he can feel Vy frown through his glove.

"…What do you want me to say, Avenger?" Her formerly kind voice this time promises a threat, an underlying hint that she's not happy with the current choice in conversation. And through his darkness, not even he can miss how her grip on her bo staff tightens. "Is there something you're looking for?"

"You summoned me for a reason, Master," he responds, turning it back to her with a raised eyebrow. "There has to be something that keeps you going in spite of the death looming in your shadow."

At that statement, Vy let out a soft sigh, as if to alleviate whatever weight was sitting on her heart in favor of shaking her head as her glasses bumped the side of the Count's fingers. "…Death in my shadow, huh?" In a quieter voice, she murmured, "I'm not even surprised anymore."

It was the Count's turn to blink. "You're not?"

Vy turned her head back to meet his eyes, a soft smile stretching her cheeks as she did. "Aye." Leaning into his palm a bit more, she sighed again. "That's just how it is with my being the last Master of Chaldea, right?"

…"That's just how it is," she said? Hah. This Master is—

"I told you that associating with someone like me, with all my vengeance and revenge unbefitting of the original Edmond Dantes, would be like poison, little flower," he chuckled, his thumb reaching out to stroke her cheekbone and smudging the dust that had accumulated past the sweat there. "But for you to summon a man beyond love and hate and still not flinch, you're not even succumbing to such things anymore." With a prouder, harsher laugh, the former Edmond Dantes took in the look on Vy's face. "You've already given up on the possibility of you ever being saved just like I have as an Avenger!"

Something unknown rushed through their mental bond at that moment. It wasn't anger, hate, or even shock. It was just… there. Sitting in the back of the Count's thoughts with barely any weight to it. "Acceptance" was the only way to describe such a thing.

"…To be 'saved' is a subjective thing to say, Count," Vy said after an adequate pause, slowly taking a few steps back so that his palm wasn't cupping her cheek anymore. Her ponytail brushed the back of her neck as she proceeded to re-establish her personal space, pulling one hand back from her bo staff to hold it in a tight fist close to her chest. Her lotus Command Seals glowed in contrast to the faint shine of the flower ring still sitting on her middle finger. "All I'm doing is fighting for the people I care about. For the world they lived in. For them, I have to make things right after all those enemies who called themselves 'gods' did them so much wrong." With a quiet toss of her head, the Count could briefly make out a bright glimmer of pink from the lotus hair clip in her ponytail as Vy exhaled. "Dr… Dr. Roman did his best, if not more, and I can't let him down now. Whether that's 'saving' or not is out of the question at this point. I just have to do what I can and I can't give up now."

Not when I've come this far, was unsaid, but plenty implied in her tone and the hardy determination in her bespectacled eyes. Not when the world isn't set right yet. Everyone dies eventually, but that day for me isn't today.

How foolish. She wants to try saving everyone, even when the odds are stacked against her, even when it's logically impossible…

"But even that beloved doctor of yours died alone, little flower," Dantes said outwardly, unable to hide the dark amusement bubbling up in his throat as the barest hint of a smirk started curling the ends of his lips. "He will never be remembered by the Proper Human History you're championing."

You may never be acknowledged in the end. Are you prepared for that?

Vy frowned, and to his growing surprise, she merely raised her clenched hand to unfurl her fingers and point one at herself. "I still remember him, Count. So does Mash and the rest of the remaining Chaldean staff. A person is never truly dead until they're forgotten." Her eyes then narrowed at him, barely toeing the line of a glare as her nose wrinkled underneath the bridge of her glasses. "You should know that yourself when coming from the Throne of Heroes. Otherwise, just don't underestimate the power of human memory."

Don't underestimate me, Avenger.

Heh. "Duly noted," the Count amused her, crossing his arms and tilting his head at her. When Vy tilted her head back at him in response, he chuckled. "But you mean to say you'll shoulder these memories forever?"

Even if it means you'll be dragged down into the abyss, remembering worlds that never came to be?

Vy blinked before another, softer smile formed on her lips. "For as long as I can," she said. If the Count didn't know any better, her voice bordered a hum as the same dull acceptance rang out loud through their bond. "Because it's the least I can do for those who couldn't get the chance to live."

Because it's all I can do. Even if I never get saved. They deserve that much more than me.

Is that why—

Before the Count could open his mouth, Vy proceeded to let out an embarrassed Ngyah noise, shaking her head vigorously before raising her hand to slap her cheek some. "Anywho! Enough of that philosophical stuff! I'll be heading out first, Count, so if you want some coffee, I'll be in the Dining Hall!" Without a moment to spare, Vy then went on to hasten her walking pace, passing him by while being careful not to bump his shoulder along the way as her bo staff started shortening its length. Once she reached the doorway, she tossed her head back in his direction with a sheepish smile, lotus flower hairclip in her ponytail glowing with the gesture. "I'll hold off on the condensed milk for you!" were the last words she left him with, and then the door closed behind her with a faint yet firm fwish of air.

Dantes tipped his hat towards the doorway where Vy once was, closing his eyes absently. "…And that is why you can never be my 'accomplice,' Master," he muttered under his breath, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "With such admirable goals like that in the darkness, why wouldn't you be Chaldea's 'little flower'?" A harsh laugh echoed in the simulator room around him. "Walking with me to hell is not like you. Don't be like your beloved doctor either in marching towards a lonely death. Forge your own path towards life instead, and I'll be sure to follow to make sure you never wilt."

It was a twisted promise, but a promise nonetheless.

"…What are you planning, Edmond Dantes?"

The Count didn't flinch at the feeling of the cold cosmos tickling the back of his heels through his mantle, turning a blank eye towards the Goddess lingering in the hallway where she wasn't before. Despite the mismatched eyes and the overflowing pink hair, Astarte gave him a level stare in return past her red cape, the stars in her clothes swirling from the immense power lingering there. "I do not have the slightest idea of what you are talking about, Space Ishtar," he said mockingly, noting how the primordial goddess seemed to bristle at the title with growing interest. "Is it so wrong of a Servant to check on their Master?"

"You seemed plenty suspicious to me!" the goddess burst out suddenly in a teenage voice, before coughing into a raised fist and shaking her head. "To us," she went on in a sterner, more stoic tone, "it seemed as though you were actively questioning our Master's motives."

The Count turned on the heels of his shoes to place a hand on his hip, making a show of studying his fellow Avenger. "Last I checked, there are no restrictions to free speech here in Novum Chaldea, Astarte," he went on, pretending not to notice how the Servantverse Avenger continued to bristle at the change in title. "And I find it odd you're the one getting worked up on Vy's expense when I recall a certain space-oriented Goddess taking her away once upon a time against her will. Much to the dilemma of everyone else."

"Th-That was different!" Astarte went on in the same stoic voice, yet unable to hide the sudden crack in personal vernacular as she shook her head. "I didn't know better back then, and — and that was resolved already! Especially if you haven't seen the Holy Grail glow I have." It was then accentuated by overdone waving gestures of the Avenger's arms towards her chest and her growing pout as she said in a louder tone, "And yet it seems like you're causing more trouble!"

"Hah!" The former Dantes let himself laugh, throwing his head back while being careful of his hat as his Grailed Avenger counterpart looked on in confusion. "Trouble? You jest, Astarte."

I would never willingly leave the little flower alone.

"I was not joking," Astarte said in a different voice, and the Count reoriented himself just in time to see her eyes glow ominously. Sparks flew between her fingertips as she added, "If you do anything to threaten Vy…"

Fellow Avenger or not, I will unleash a black hole on you, her gaze spelled out.

Hm. The Count summoned his own darkness from the abyss with a tiny tilt of his head. "Take it up in the simulator then," he returned mildly, a smirk stretching his cheeks as he cracked his knuckles for extra show. "Our little flower has enough problems to deal with as is. Which reminds me, shouldn't you attend to her, being her Grailed Avenger? She cannot stand in the face of harsh winds forever."

Flowers may be beautiful, lotuses especially, but that doesn't mean they're invincible.

"It is not my shift today, it's my other version's turn as the Grailed Lancer," Astarte snapped, the sparks between her fingers growing bigger by the second. "This world's Ereshkigal has known Vy far longer than I have, and that's not factoring in the other Grailed who can't seem to stop looking after her. So I have plenty of time to work things out with a suspicious guy like you."

"Oh?" The Count decided to re-evaluate his previous view of the departed Romani Archaman with some pride. So even the good doctor influenced the other Servants enough for them to keep schedules he made?

"Besides," a childish-like grin proceeded to form on Astarte's cheeks, unbecoming of a Primordial Goddess as she crossed her arms over her chest. Whether or not she was aware of the Count's inward thoughts, she gave no such indication as confidence filled her figure. "Shiki taught me a few tricks. So let's go to the simulator!"

Hmph. Some things seemed to never change, whether it was the Master or a fellow Servant. The Count then made a show of rolling his eyes. "Once I get my coffee."

How could you even claim you could never be saved when you have so many that would be at your every beckoning call, little flower? Dantes thought to himself. You underestimate us Servants.

Elsewhere, in a specific library with a Library-type Nemo and a centaur teacher, a certain little flower sneezed.

Note: As of Nov. 6, 2022, it is the birthday of one of my best friends — Aqui/withanina, who I've known since college and my first stories on FFN.

Happy birthday, Aqui. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thankie for being born and being my friend through everything.

For everyone else, I'll see you all next time.