Summary: Just because the sub-Singularity Salem disappeared with Raum's defeat and Abby leaving with the "Cosmic-traveling Gentleman", it doesn't mean all the hurt was truly resolved. Charles-Henri Sanson learns it firsthand, when finally getting a moment alone with the Master who experienced it all in Novum Chaldea after Olympus. Passionlip's incident was the mere trigger to what only "God" previously knew.
Note: This was a chapter inspired by Teddog's stories Infinite Regress and Interpersonal Collaboration, her Fate Fanfic Cafe writing discord server, and her encouragement of writing anything involving Sanson. So, Teddog, if you're reading this, this chapter is dedicated to you. :)
And, well. Since I have personal experience knowing what it's like to love someone who's losing their memory, it felt right honoring that with Sanson and his impact in the story of Salem. Mostly unedited outside of my own viewing, but still.
Content warning for general Epic of Remnant spoilers (specifically Agartha and Salem), anything post-Olympus, and implied past death by hanging of course.
The theme for this chapter is the piano and three violins version of God Knows from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. Because as much as I adore the original rock version, I found this rendition to really convey the emotion I wanted to write for. You the reader can still listen to the original too, of course!
Oh? Some of you asking for a vocal song alternative outside of the original God Knows? Then look no further than Hanakotoba from Yuki Yuna is a Hero. Since I found the lyrics representing the flower this Chaldean Master tries to be.
Please enjoy!
Day 59: Only God Knows
Charles-Henri Sanson knew his Master was not perfect. Vy Duong was never perfect from the get go — his time watching her from the infirmary bay along with Dr. Roman back in the original Chaldea was proof of that. Mana exhaustion back then was a near daily experience. It still didn't stop her from trying — from honestly, sincerely trying to be perfect — whether it was her attempts at farming or even reaching out to the other Servants. It was truly admirable. Shocking too, really. More so when the Incineration was reversed against all odds thanks to her actions and, even if it was for a limited time, through her leadership, Chaldea achieved legitimate peace.
The peace would've made sense in the old fairy tales, where the single girl who stood up just for the well-being of her fellow person would've been rewarded with such a luxury. Especially after taking such a long journey like resolving the Incineration. Just like how Marie might have had with more joy, with more love, if the general populace didn't want a scapegoat for the French Revolution.
It's why the news of her latest breakdown after a rough exchange with Passionlip (a Servant who already had so many issues Nightingale had to keep an archive of notebooks for documenting everything, no thanks to BB being unrepentant about not giving away answers) was the hardest to swallow.
Yes, the Lostbelts weren't easy by any means — even the ever-so-roguish and reliable Robin started getting shadows under his eyes lately thanks to them (and that wasn't even getting into the other Grailed, who were easily becoming the most powerful of Novum Chaldea) — but seeing the previously cheerful Vy slowly become so silent with every culling of a Tree of Emptiness was disturbing to him. The last time Vy had been so quiet, even to an executioner like himself, it was with the resolution of Agartha. And Agartha itself was a hellscape in its own right, with the constant rape threats and Christopher Columbus taunting the Chaldean Master with his own glorious ideas of slavery equating to wealth in the end like he enjoyed it. Not even during the Incineration with Goetia's threats could Sanson recall Vy bawling so loudly in the aftermath, crying into the shoulder of Robin's mantle like no tomorrow until her voice became too hoarse to scream anymore. Until her legs shook enough to not let her stand on her own anymore.
With a hell like Agartha that made even d'Eon — Knight of France and Vy's first ever Gold Servant — flinch at the mere mention of such an event coming to pass in everyone's mind, Sanson wanted that to be the end of it.
But reality was never so kind. It could be cruel, and so, so unfair. Even to those who deserved rest from its clutches.
Heck, even with scheduled medical appointments, something he should've been comfortable with thanks to Dr. Roman's late influence, Sanson felt uneasy.
"Master?" Hearing his own voice had him tempted to curse because even her title came out tinged with hesitation when he called out into the waiting room a few moments later. Not even the little answering Mm noise from afar calms his nerves.
Heck, normally Chiron would be the one doing this. (More so since the centaur was Vy's assigned therapist and on-call physician after that one incident in the simulator post-Olympus. Sanson couldn't find himself volunteering for either position, no matter how pleasant of a patient Vy was.) Or Asclepius, Nemo Nurse, Paracelsus, or Nightingale — someone other than himself should've been calling Vy into the medical bay for the checkup he was supposed to be heading.
Sanson was merely one of the lesser known Servants who had the medical skills. No official title like the others. So why did the others delegate him? Why choose someone who couldn't even remember everything that had gone on in Salem — the last event before the Lostbelts — to help their only Master?
The doubtful questions faded once he glanced around said waiting room and found his gaze landing on Vy — tiny, tiny Vy — in a white dress and aquamarine sash, absently kicking her feet underneath the chair she had chosen with her bare hands digging into the chair cushion. The sight itself made Sanson pause.
Loose long brown hair with no hair tie — or hair ribbon for that matter — in sight. Shadows lingering under her eyes. Head bowed towards the tile floor. Brown slip-on shoes not even covering the soles of her feet, hanging onto her toes instead no thanks to her kicking. Glasses barely sitting on the edge of her nose, looking foggy to match her brown irises holding absolutely no light in them.
Is she…? Sanson took a breath, forcing that thought back into the one crevice he allowed himself in his mind to mull over later. No, no, it wasn't time to be thinking about the what-if's, what happened to make Vy this way, or what could be happening in her mind. What mattered was that he still had a job to do. So he took a few more steps forward to not linger behind the doorway, schooling his concern and unease into a voice he hoped would be comforting to the young woman uncharacteristically waiting alone. "Vy?"
Vy slowly blinked at the sound of her name, her shoulders tensing as light came back to her brown eyes all at once. Once she was looking up to meet his eyes, finally noticing him, it appeared as if she startled back to awareness just from Sanson using her real name over her official title. "Sa…" Her voice cracked. "Sanson?"
Sanson did his best to put on a professional smile. It was crooked at the edges, not as charming as Robin or Achilles could probably manage for that matter (Sanson knew he had no chance at a competition with Vy's handpicked Grailed), but it was still something he could offer her. "You're just on time for your appointment, Vy," he continued in the same soft voice. "Come on in."
"O-Okay." Vy smiled up at him once she slowly got to her feet, slipping them back into her slippers to walk towards him, and despite the newfound light in her eyes, Sanson couldn't stop the part of his heart that felt like she was lying about something. "I'll be in your care then, Sanson."
When did Vy's smile start looking so fragile to him? Just, when?
"How have you been feeling, Vy? No nightmares lately?"
Instead of a verbal response, Vy raised her hand in a soft "eh" gesture from her seat across from him on the examination bed, bobbing her head back and forth between her shoulders with closed eyes and a quiet Mm noise. If not for her furrowed brows, Sanson could've taken her for being half-asleep, what with her barely responding to his questions. This was the third one he tried, and she hadn't said a word since he brought her into the medical bay. Nothing about any dietary changes, sleep habits, absolutely nothing.
Of course, Sanson could still remember Dr. Roman — his old friend — and how he commissioned Caster Da Vinci to make a whiteboard for Vy's use when she was particularly fatigued. It was famous enough for all new Servant arrivals to be brought into the know about the item — just to make sure the one Chaldean Master could be more comfortable. Fatigue couldn't be ruled out in this situation. But he was also certain Vy hadn't taken that many quests earlier this morning — the Grailed would've made more of a verbal fuss about it if she did — and yet her precious whiteboard was only an arms-length away, tellingly clean and untouched.
Something else was wrong.
Sanson closed his eyes, putting down his pen and clipboard to mull it over. From the mission reports filed post-Salem and the many Lostbelts, he already knew without question that Vy was in a precarious state. Having to erase so many civilizations — innocents and all — for even a slight chance to regain her own was already a hard task to uptake alone, but he could also recall how, in the few weeks leading up to all the Servant Unsummonings by the Mages' Association, that Vy was eerily quiet like this too. Towards him as well, as a damning factor to boot.
Could it be, after Salem…?
"Vy," Sanson opened his eyes, getting up from his chair to walk over and get to one knee, carefully taking her left hand in both of his to squeeze, "Could I ask why you can't seem to look at me?"
The young woman startled, just like back in the waiting room, but this time, Sanson could feel it through her tense knuckles as her lotus-shaped Command Seals glowed. "S-Sanson, that's…" A deep flush began to color her cheeks and the top of her nose as Sanson watched, her gaze darting everywhere else but him, as if trying to look for an answer she just didn't have. "That's…" she choked.
"Please, Master." Sanson did his best to smile despite the sinking feeling in his chest, squeezing her hand with as much care as he could muster. "This isn't meant to pressure you, nor to 'call you out' as modern times phrase it. I just want to help, so please. Can you tell me?" He tried to ignore the part of him that hissed, You're making her feel worse. What mattered was getting to the root of the problem — possibly tending to what bothered Vy to not use her voice until now. Because that was what a real doctor would've done. What a medical professional like Dr. Roman would've done.
Still, to his surprise, Vy vigorously shook her head, averting her gaze again as some strands of hair came down to shade her eyes. "I… I can't." A soft noise caught between a whimper and an Uuu echoes afterwards. Was Vy… Was Vy about to cry? "It… it hurts too much." Her right hand came up to clutch at the front of her dress, right over where her heart was, white fabric wrinkling between her fingers. "I… I can't. I just can't."
It took a moment to realize Sanson's own heart was aching too, his mind recalling the words the young woman bawled once upon a time to Robin after Agartha had disappeared. I-I don't wanna go back there. I-I can't go back there. I can't, I can't…!
He forced himself to breathe, to bring himself back to reality. "…Why not, Vy? If it is hurting you this much, holding it in like this would only make it worse for you." He squeezed her left hand a bit tighter, hoping, willing, that some of his concern was coming through to ease whatever shackles had taken hold in Vy's heart. That what he was saying wasn't pushing her over the edge. "You don't have to tell me everything. It just has to be something." Something that could let me help you, was something he forced himself not to say, but it was implied nonetheless.
The last thing he expected was for Vy to raise her head to glare at him through the shade of her hair, frustration clear in her watery brown eyes. Her voice broke just as she screamed, "How am I supposed to say 'something' when it's concerning things that this you doesn't know, Sanson?! What else am I supposed to say when you don't remember?! What else am I going to have to do?!"
He knew he wouldn't like the answer, but Sanson still lurched back from hearing it, using all of his remaining willpower just to keep holding onto Vy's hand. The light faded from Vy's eyes in that very moment, leaving them concerningly blank as Sanson murmured in the resulting silence, "Vy…"
How long has Salem been haunting you?
"Oh gosh, I-I shouldn't have said that," Vy fumbled, ducking her head almost immediately to cut off the eye contact as her voice cracked in its journey of lowering her own volume. "I-I'm sorry, Sanson, I shouldn't have said that, Ishouldn'thavesaidthat—!"
"Wait, Vy." Sanson gently tugged at Vy's left hand, squeezing her fingers to bring her gaze back to him. "Wait. It's alright." Well, no, it actually wasn't. His legs were aching, his heart was aching more, but he ignored it all. He had to, if it meant he could find out the truth. If it meant Vy could open up to him again. "You can say it."
A small droplet fell and hit the back of his knuckles as Vy shook her head. "I-I can't," she whimpered, some strands of hair sticking to her cheeks and neck past the collar of her dress as her glasses began to fog up. "Not to you, Sanson."
Sanson felt himself frown as the voice that left his mouth was quiet and barely audible, toeing a gentle whisper. "Why not?"
"B-Because it's unfair…" Vy raised her right hand to take off her glasses, wiping at her eyes as she swallowed thickly. "Because you're not the Sanson that chose to die in Salem."
Sanson felt his heart come to an abrupt halt as his fears were confirmed. Of course. It's Salem after all… "Vy…" left Sanson in an outward whoosh of a breath.
"I… I don't want to blame you…" A soft choking noise echoed between them as more droplets slowly fell onto Sanson's knuckles, right above where Vy's Command Seals were on the back of her left hand. One, two, three. "Not for what happened in Salem, nor for… f-for what your past self did in deciding to go off on his own and… and just accepting his own death by hanging." Vy starts to tremble, enough for Sanson to feel it through the tendons on her left hand. Her glasses are barely folded into her right palm as she keeps the back of it to her eyes, voice cracking. "Because if... if I do say something, it means a part of my heart will start to blame you, and I… I can't do that to you, Sanson. Not when you... when you still came back."
The sinking feeling in Sanson's chest still lingered once his ears registered Vy's words. He was starting to get his answers, but at what cost? "Vy, did…" he forced himself to breathe in and out again, just to keep his voice steady in spite of the ugly mix of regret, hurt, and confusion starting to flow through his veins. In, out, in, out. "Did my past self… did my past self hurt you?"
What answers him at first is a choked-up sob. Then, to his surprise, Vy shakes her head, slowly pulling back her right hand to reveal wet skin and red-rimmed brown eyes. "…I-It's not your fault because, because you're alive again, Sanson. You actually remember me again. I-I should be happy about that, about you being with us in Chaldea again, so... so don't ask, please." A few more tears fall onto his knuckles as Vy turns her left hand over to faintly squeeze one of his own back. "Just, please." Her voice cracks again as her next sentence comes close to begging. Pleading, even. "Not like this."
Let me go, suddenly echoes through their bond like wildfire, nearly making Sanson flinch if not for the grip he still had on Vy's left hand. Please, just please, let me go and I can be better, be a happier person, not burden you like this anymore—
Even so, Master, for someone like you… Sanson can't help but go back to the truth that started this whole mess, the smile on his face weak but well-meaning nonetheless. "...But a happy person wouldn't be holding back their tears right now, Vy."
You deserve better than this pain.
Vy finally, finally raises her head to look him in the eye, a new set of tears trailing down her cheeks all the while, and then her bottom lip trembles. "Y-You…" she chokes, the bridge of her nose wrinkling to match the incoming sniffles. "You silly Servant…" The new droplets make thick lines across her skin as she sucks in her cheeks from trying to hold back another sob, and Vy raises her right hand to wipe at her eyes again, keeping it there once more tears start to follow. "I… I just wanted to save you…"
"I know, Master." And why wouldn't he? That entire motivation of wanting to save — wanting to help — was what allowed the Incineration to be resolved in the first place. It was why Vy was still alive, beloved by so many Servants outside of Sanson himself. Even if Sanson couldn't remember anything after the Rayshift that led to the beginning of Sub-Singularity Salem, he could still vividly recall how Vy had gotten between himself and Robin with a pout, interrupting their argument with what could arguably called a cute yell of "No infighting at breakfast!" and leaving it at that. Vy was just too kind like that. Too caring and loving of the nearest person. It's why he feels his own voice wobble as he says, "But you can't save everyone."
You shouldn't hold yourself accountable for what another me did.
"I-I still wanted to try!" Vy gives him an angry look through her fingers before another sob cuts her off, and Sanson's sinking feeling only grows as she continues to cry between words. "E-Even if I never spent as much time with you as I did with Mata Hari and Big Robin and Nezha and Medea back in the — the original Chaldea — it didn't mean I wanted to see you die!" Both of her lips tremble this time. "Wh-When your other self confessed to the so-called, the so-called—" There's another choking noise as Vy shakes her head, closing her eyes as a half-sob, half-wail noise echoes in her throat. "God, I hate this… crying sucks…!"
Sanson stayed dutifully silent, squeezing Vy's hand. Dr. Roman would've probably known what to do — hell, maybe even Chiron because of how both had seen Vy cry before and knew how to react. But right now, in the medical bay, it was just Sanson and Sanson alone, forcing himself to listen to words he had a sinking feeling he should've acknowledged long before. Even if he wasn't a true medical professional.
Even if he was never in line for a Holy Grail like Robin was in Vy's heart.
"I-I knew you couldn't have killed Hopkins back then," Vy hiccups, covering her mouth a few seconds later to hold back the coughs that must've come from the sudden lack of breath racking her chest. "Wh-When seeing all the blood and Lavinia, I-I just knew it. But, but I still saw you die, Sanson. You… your other self still chose to leave for a crime you didn't commit and I-I hated it. More so when the dark part of my brain kept trying to convince me it was because I was a horrible M-Master who deserved to see another person she cared about walk to their death."
All Sanson could muster in that moment was a soft murmur of Vy's name. Because what else could he do? Sure, he read the reports of what had happened in Salem — what happened in the Lostbelts since — but that didn't mean he could interrupt a girl who was clearly in pain and only now finding a place to express it via her impromptu and very messy retelling.
Even if his own heart continued to ache because why did his other self choose to die if he had known that Vy would inevitably cry? Was it Raum? Was it Lavinia? Or was it for Abby?
Sanson wasn't sure. Nothing was coming to mind no matter how many times he mentally reviewed the reports that documented Salem.
As he watched, Vy continued to sob, trying to hold the noises back but failing more and more as they slipped out past her fingers to make a chorus that honestly made the aching in Sanson's chest worse. "I'm sorry, Sanson… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I wanted to save you, I wanted to bring you back—!" More coughs leak out past her palm amongst the tumbling words, just as the droplets on Sanson's knuckles beaded together into one large drop to slip down his wrist. "I'm just… I don't know, I'm just so so tired of seeing the people I love die. More so when they willingly choose to die. I… I can't deal with that again. Standing by and watching it happen like a useless bitch all over again."
At that moment, Sanson wanted to say something, anything to stop the hurt Vy was hurling at herself, but all he found himself doing was squeezing her left hand.
Vy's voice comes out hoarse and raw once she starts listing off names. "Dr. Roman, Mash, Da Vinci, Bedi-san, Ana, Ushiwaka, Benkei, Marie, Spartacus, Nezha, Mandricardo, Charlotte, Orion, that other Achi, Saber Shii-chan, then you—!" One final, low wail echoes between them, enough to make Sanson's heart clench in his chest. "I still keep dreaming of that other you when the noose tightened around his neck…! You had a blindfold on, but I knew it hurt…!" With an unsteady sigh, Vy wiped at her eyes again. "I-I just wish it didn't."
I just wish I saved you.
"Vy…" Sanson's voice sounds weak even to his own ears. "You shouldn't blame yourself for that."
"T-Try to tell that to my subconscious when I still remember how much I failed. When it keeps playing back those sham trials a-and yours and Mata Hari's limp bodies hanging over the gallows. Nightmares and a-all that fucking bullshit." Vy pulls her right hand back to half heartedly glare at him, cheeks red to match her blotchy red eyes. When he steadily stared back at her, she slowly wilted, shoulders falling as quickly as they had straightened up to look him in the eye. The light faded from her brown irises too once she whispered in a weaker voice, "…I'm sorry. I-I just… I don't know what to tell you now, Sanson. I'm just… I'm just too tired to even be angry anymore when you're right in front of me again. When I want to trust you again."
Just like in the old Chaldea. The thought rings like a loud siren through their previously silent bond, making Sanson blink from the pushback. Just like with… with Doctor…
Sanson closed his eyes and lowered his head out of pure instinct. He knew his lips would be cold against Vy's fingertips, but he kept a firm grip on them where he could, not minding the soft gasp echoing above his hair as a wet droplet fell onto his scalp. "…I'm sorry as well, Vy."
"For…" The hand in his grasp twitches as Vy sniffles again. "For what? I'm the one being…" There's another cough, punctuated by another unsteady sigh of breath as Vy tries to compose herself. The giggle that follows afterwards is anything but cheerful as her glasses fall to the blankets beneath her from her loose grip. "Being the big crybaby on you when you don't deserve it, Sanson."
When you deserve better than me.
"That's not what I'm apologizing for, Master." It's when Sanson raises his head from Vy's left hand that he can see the light returning to the young woman's brown eyes, illuminating them with honest confusion as tears stick to her lashes. He can't help the sad smile that forms on his face because through it all, it's still Vy. The one young Vietnamese girl who summoned him years ago in the original Chaldea. The girl who let him meet his queen again. The one who…
"Then…" Vy's high-pitched voice brings him out of the lull of his thoughts, making him look up into shining brown eyes as another tear buds at the corner of one, "what is it?"
You're the one who let my queen Marie live again, Vy. And I…
Sanson bows his head, pressing his cheek into Vy's open palm once she splayed her fingers outwards at his prodding. "I'm sorry I'm not the doctor you need." That I can't be the professional Dr. Roman was — an old friend far beyond anyone else we both knew. That my other self still, knowingly or not, hurt you. "But, if you'll allow me to, I can be the friend you want me to be. Even if I'm not the Sanson who died in Salem, I still am part of the Sanson you summoned, Master." It took all of his remaining strength to raise his gaze up towards Vy again — the girl who shouldn't have to hold up the world — to smile wryly. "So I can at least hear you out on something you want. To make up for all the pain. That is, if you so wish for it."
Vy's lips trembled, a prelude to the new noise echoing in her throat in response (was it an "Uguuuu" just now?). Then, she raised her wet right hand to cover her shaking mouth, brows furrowing against her forehead as more tears welled up in her eyes. "Ohmigod," is the first verbal thing Sanson hears, and this time, a more genuine laugh tinges the end of it as Vy shakes her head, stray hairs batting her cheeks with the motion. "Really? S-Spoiling me? Why aren't you asking for something for… for yourself, Charles…?"
Sanson blinked, warmth slowly starting to flood his chest through their mental connection. The air feels lighter again. "Charles…?" he echoed numbly.
"N-Near the end of Salem," Vy confessed, letting her right hand fall to reveal a tiny, actual-Vy-smile, "your other self let me call him that. A-And after you just… you just echoed something he said, back when the mission first started…" One last tear trickles down Vy's red cheeks before she tugs on her left hand. Sanson doesn't realize he's being pulled up with it thanks to his grip, and it takes him a moment too long to realize thin, shaky arms are wrapping around his neck past his coat as he stands up, squeezing warmly as the slightly bitter warmth of more tears start to soak his shirt collar. "Th-Thankie for caring, Charles… Just thankie…"
I love you, echoed through their bond, strong and taut like a bowstring drawn to let loose an arrow. I still love you just like everyone else, Charles-Henri Sanson. So don't you dare leave like that again, you silly, silly man.
Sanson closes his eyes and, despite the heaviness in his muscles, raises his arms and hugs back. "Thank you, Master," he whispers through the dryness of his throat, ignoring the growing wetness of his shoulder as his fingers find purchase in the soft silkiness of Vy's brown hair. "Thank you for telling me and still wanting to trust me."
The last thing Sanson expected to see when opening the door to the waiting room was a crowd. Yes, it was public knowledge to all Chaldean Servants when Vy's appointments would be happening on a daily basis, but after what had just happened, he wasn't mentally prepared for who sat at the familiar red chairs there.
Nezha, rocking back and forth with their hands and feet on the cushion, resembling a monkey with their stance in spite of their long ponytails and dress that came with Final Ascension.
Mata Hari — no, Margaretha — was there too, hands carefully folded in the lap of her own modest yellow dress, the rose veil from her Final Ascension still adorning her hair as she waited at Nezha's right side.
Marie, in the white dress and large hat that Final Ascension had given her too, was the only one of the ragtag group humming to herself, nodding her head to the beat of a song only she knew.
And, of course, he was there too. Sanson was tempted to close his eyes. Out of all of Vy's handpicked Grailed, of course he had to show up. He was the one closest to Vy's heart in the end, after all.
Vy, still sniffling somewhat in spite of Sanson's personal handkerchief pressed to her glasses-less eyes and a medic bay-issued water bottle clutched to her chest, stopped too once she caught a glimpse of the familiar green over Sanson's shoulder. "Big…" is all that leaves her lips at first. Then she stutters. It's almost adorable if not for how sudden the whole thing was too. "Big Robin? Nezha? Mata Hari? M-Marie? Wha—"
Nezha, Margaretha, Marie, and Robin all immediately got up from their chairs once their eyes caught sight of the petite Master, varying degrees of concern overtaking their features as Vy gulped.
"Um, about this…"
Sanson wisely stepped to the side once Nezha interrupted with a loud shout of, "VY!", barely able to muster an apologetic smile to the young woman before she was promptly tackled by the worried Crown Prince.
"You are. Crying! What. Happened?!" Nezha didn't seem to even notice Sanson at that point, their hands cradling Vy's red cheeks as they started looking the girl up and down for visible injuries. "Did someone. Hurt you?! Or did. Someone bully you?!"
"N-Nezha, I-I'm okay, I'm okay, you don't have to look that hard—" But Vy's smiling once Marie runs over too, her soft voice calling out her specific nickname of little cream puff in French ("mon petit chou" — just for Vy, that's so like Marie) that could've made Sanson's heart melt if not for two specific presences making themselves known at his side once he finds a corner of the waiting room to idle by.
A delicate hand pokes his shoulder just as another different, calloused one reached over to lightly cuff the back of his head. Sanson doesn't even have the heart to turn down Robin's needling at this point when he knows it's friendly. When it feels forgiving.
"So, Charles," Margaretha smiled like a cat who had gotten its first taste of good milk, her eyes sparkling with joy, "were you able to get all the answers you wanted?"
When looking at Nezha and Marie, his queen, hugging Vy between them with worried yet bright smiles, Sanson found himself blinking before smiling too. "…Yes," he murmured quietly. "I think I did, Margaretha."
One more small cuff to the head has Sanson look into a smile that could've easily been from the storybooks. "Alright. Whatever floats your boat." The May King grinned wider once he noticed he had Sanson's attention, shrugging his shoulders as he placed his hands on his hips. "As long as you and the little sparrow got all the salt out of your systems, then I'd say we're even." From the perch of Robin's shoulder, his familiar bluebird cheeped happily to match. "Let's work well together from here on out then, Assassin?"
Sanson smiled. "Of course, Archer."
It's only when Vy's attention is fully taken away by Nezha, Margaretha, and Marie sitting her down in a break room chair a few moments later, pulling out hair brushes and mirrors to do… something, that Sanson lets his back slouch.
"…How do you do it, Robin?"
The green Archer made a grunt of recognition from his place sitting next to him, arms crossed and gaze pointed towards his little sparrow. "Do what?"
Sanson felt tempted to put his hands together and pray. To God, to someone, for some more mental strength. "How can you handle seeing our Master break?"
The scene playing out in front of him would've fooled Sanson into thinking Vy's tears from earlier didn't happen. Her shy smile and rosy red cheeks as Nezha started tugging at her hair to start making a bun would have reinforced the illusion too. But the shoulder of his coat was still wet, his heart still heavy.
Is this something you've had to deal with before without any of us knowing?
A rustling sound echoes in his ears before Sanson turns his head and finds Robin pulling out a stalk of mint to chew on absently, grimace clear on his face. "You hold me up on too high of a pedestal, scholar," he mutters, the fondness in his eye melting away for frustration as he turns to meet Sanson's gaze. "Even if I'm used to it, Grails and all, it doesn't make it hurt any less seeing the girl I love cry." An exhausted sigh leaves his lips.
"So—"
Then, to Sanson's surprise, the fondness from earlier returns with full force once Robin looks back to find Vy fumbling with a small pile of roses Mata Hari's apparently shoved into her hands as Marie weaves ribbons into her hair. If Sanson didn't know any better, the May King looked more like a simple man than a Servant as his cheeks flushed a soft pink. "But hey. Even if getting close to other people turns out to be a mistake, she's still my little sparrow, Assassin. And after she chose me, I'm more terrified of losing her than I am of her tears."
Sanson glanced back, unintentionally catching Nezha's eye just as Marie flits back and forth between Vy's shoulders with more ribbons. The Crown Prince gives Sanson a smile too, and Sanson pauses, straightening his back. "…I suppose we have our work cut out for us, don't we?"
Chair legs scraped against the tile floor as Robin stood up, the fluttering of the No Face May King marking his movement as he walked forward, a familiar lotus ribbon clip suddenly clutched in his hand. "You should know it being part of the medical team, Charles." The quip is dry, but holding no malice as he approaches their Master with an easygoing smile.
It takes Sanson a moment to hear the last bit whispered under Robin's breath.
"So don't let her down again, you hear?"
Once Sanson was left as the only one sitting in his corner of the break room, he nodded his head.
"I'll make sure not to cut it off like my Salem self did. To all of you."
Note: To my bà ngoại, my maternal grandmother who's slowly losing her hearing and more of her memory because of losing grandpa back in June 2022 — I still love you. Even when I miss you too. Be Vy will always love you.
To everyone else, I'll see you next time, at the next chapter.
Edit (Mar 18, 2023): Per some friendly feedback from Carim/GlyphArchive, changed some of the earlier narration and added an extra scene because I could.