Summary: Oberon didn't know why his voice had called Chaldea's Master the name of his guiding star. There was nothing truly remarkable about a woman who would continue to deny the histories of the Lostbelts, and Vortigern couldn't help but loathe her. But when he pulls his final gambit and loses, he starts to reconsider.

Note: This is inspired by how my real life Robin/partner actually confided in me about how he identified with Oberon to an extent. I knew he had a rough life before we met, but to know he found it easy to lie just as much as Oberon did (and still does to a fault even after meeting me), well. It stuck with me a bit. It was actually his idea for Day 65 to have Oberon call Vy "Titania", so here I am writing again to explore the consequences of that.

MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING for Sections 29-30 of Lostbelt 6, by the way! Because this is covering the finale of Avalon le Fae and I highly recommend you read that first before coming here. Because the story is beautiful (arguably one of FGO's BEST, by the way) and I just wanted to go about doing my own twist on things.

Oh. And uh… content warning for graphic violence, cursing, and what could be taken as hazing. The author does not condone hazing at all, mind, but the characters specifically involved have a lot of bad blood that when written together, so they came off having interactions that could be taken like hazing. You've been warned.

The theme for this chapter is Preserved Roses by T.M. Revolution and Nana Mizuki. I stumbled onto the song from a Symphogear AMV of all things, and the translated lyrics really deliver the dynamic of Vy and the Grailed Oberon's walking into, in my opinion. For alternatives, I'll point you to (1) Mephisto by Queen Bee; and (2) the track merely titled Ai I from the Oshi no Ko official soundtrack.

Here we go.

Day 67: Titania and Hermia

Vortigern already knew from their first meeting that Vy Duong was going to be a pawn. Despite all of her power, all of the bonds she made with her Servants and her allies, she was still one human girl. Someone he could use. Someone he could ease along the path of letting Faerie Britain die because it was all meaningless.

He wasn't expecting the Oberon part of his Spirit Origin to call her "Titania."

It didn't make sense. "Titania" was just a fictional character. Someone William Shakespeare made up just to love a capricious character like Oberon. There were no true myths or legends about her — she was just fiction. And even when Vortigern was born with Oberon's name, there was some part of his cursed existence that still wanted her.

So why? Back at the Dracae's river, why did he call Vy by her name? Was it really a slip of the tongue? Or something else? She was supposed to die like everyone else. He wasn't supposed to get attached.

Even her simple and tired, "I knew it," on the bow of the Storm Border caught Oberon by surprise, even before the Hollow Worm swallowed them both up, because how could she have seen through him? Even after his "heroic sacrifice" for the Child of Prophecy when the High Queen attacked the Round Table Army with her clones, she knew he would betray her? Did none of that really matter? He should've covered all of his bases, yet she was still looking at him with disappointment in her eyes.

What did him in? Was it his spilling his deal with Koyanskaya to take out Morgan's reinforcements for Woodwose on the outskirts of Gloucester, just because she asked? Or was it his actual mess-up calling her Titania on the Dracae's river? He just didn't know.

Summoning four of her personal Grailed (Robin and Arturia Saber were expected considering how they just wouldn't leave Vy's side, but Grailing another Lostbelt King and a hero from the Trojan War? REALLY?), an alternate Morgan in "Tonelico" (had she been why Vy was able to call him out?), and even an older version of the Child of Prophecy to her side felt unfair, though. Even with Mash — Tam Lin Galahad — standing at her side like the knight she wanted to be through it all — it was just overkill to Vortigern and Oberon both, really. They should've all been asleep — not ganging up on him. Vy was the only one aside from Arturia Caster who saw their Lost Will to the end from Baobhan Sith's trap, so he could've — should've taken her down just like everyone else. Not like this. Never like this.

It really was unfair.

It was why Vortigern found himself scratching the back of his head, cracking his neck with exaggerated disbelief. "Now I feel like a fool for even biding my time." Opening one eye, he could see the muted disappointment present in those brown eyes, the Oberon part of him screaming Titania before he shook his head. "You were preparing for the worst even before I found you in the Nameless Woods, huh?"

The former Tonelico — now wearing white and blue garments the High Queen version of herself didn't even bother with when she was alive — merely brandished her halberd in Oberon's face with a raised brow, blue eyes flashing with fury and discontent. She even went as far as stepping forward to block some of Oberon's view of Vy. No wonder she put up that barrier way back at the Dracae's river as "insurance" — she didn't trust him even back then. Typical Morgan. "There was no way I would let you out of my sight, you shitty bug." Morgan hissed, disgust not even hidden anymore compared to her previous disguise as blue flames flared at her feet. "You destroyed Faerie Britain before — why wouldn't you do it again?"

"Oh, so the me that you knew did succeed." The jab was definitely making his luck run out of the proverbial drain as the other Chaldean Servants readied their weapons at Morgan's side, but he still narrowed his eyes at the group, taking what view he could get of the Chaldean Master standing in the center of it all. "Still, isn't it a bit late to shed the disguise, Queen Morgan? Britain's still gone. You've lost. Again." Taking pleasure in the growing frown on Morgan's face, Oberon threw his head back and laughed. "Your part in this play's long since over, Your Majesty. Performers like you and Caster who can't cut it the first time around have no business returning to the stage."

The blue flames at Morgan's feet grew in volume, but before she could step forward, Arturia Caster shook her head, taking the first steps instead. Blocking Oberon's remaining view of Vy, she said, "…What you said is true. There isn't anything here for me or Morgan to protect anymore. Nonetheless… Faerie King Oberon, he who desired Britain's destruction. I agree that it is painful to witness a dead world being artificially kept alive. You were right to bring this one to an end."

Oberon couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised at the surprised looks Vy, Morgan, and Mash in particular were sending Caster's way, grinning wider instead. Of course the Child of Prophecy he helped raise would agree. "I know, right?"

"But." Oberon was blinking. Arturia Caster was narrowing her eyes at him in clear disgust. "You were still wrong to try to end others that had nothing to do with it. Even if these faeries were beyond salvation, and our future was devoid of hope, that doesn't give you the right to rob others of their present when the future still lies ahead." With one powerful stab of her glaive into the bow of the Storm Border, Caster's brows furrowed. "That is an act of cowardice far more painful to witness than merely trying to escape destruction." Those green eyes were reflecting only him as she said in a louder, no-nonsense voice, "Isn't that right, Oberon? Your actions have been dreadfully earnest and, quite frankly, pathetic."

Oberon didn't even know why he started to smile again. He could clearly see Robin and the hero of the Trojan War both whistle appreciatively as Vy and Mash beamed in Caster's direction, and judging by the flickering of flames at Morgan's feet, the former High Queen definitely agreed with the spoken sentiments. Hell, Scathach-Skadi nearby seemed close enough to want to pat Caster's head. Even Caster's Proper Human History self — King Arthur — was grinning proudly.

It was all so, so disgusting to look at. This camaraderie, this show. All of it.

…Well, whatever. This was fine. He could still destroy them all here and throw up on their corpses later just for the fun of it.

"Huh." Dropping his previous smile, Oberon stretched his neck again, feeling the tension give out with a small pop of satisfaction. Least he could give himself in the final stretch before his Abyssal Worm would get to Proper Human History. "Alright then. You Chaldeans do so love defeating your enemies. So if that's how you want to play, I'm game. I was just getting tired of the chatter anyway. I've already told you enough about what I am."

How funny things turned out this way. Being short with those who denied five stories' worth of worlds to get here. What am I coming to?

Spreading his arms out theatrically, Oberon grinned again. "If we were in a play, this would be the grand finale. Shame nobody's around to watch it. Still, show me how proud you all are in protecting humanity then. I'll keep you all company to the end, just like a proper actor should."

But to Oberon's surprise, Vy stepped out past Caster and Morgan's shadows to look at him head-on, emotion swirling in her eyes. "…First, I want to ask you one last thing."

"Hm? What's that?" What kind of question would prompt Vy from stepping away from the protection of her beloved Servants, anyway? Her family in all but blood, who previously would've never let Oberon come close to learn what was going on? What was the point?

The light in Vy's brown eyes curiously dimmed past her glasses as she murmured, "Why are you doing this?"

Oberon felt his shoulders fall. She didn't get it? Even after his grand speech to accompany the unveiling of the Abyssal Worm? But she was — no. She wasn't Titania. She never would be. Not when she could wipe out five worlds and not breathe a word of it all in regret. "Why? To wipe everything clean, that's all. I was sure I'd already said as much. Humans and faeries alike disgusted me more than I can say." Just like you. "That's why I'm getting rid of it all. And I used you all to do it. Just like how you used me and everyone else in every other Lostbelt to get to this point, just to survive."

The light in Vy's eyes dimmed even more. He couldn't help but be disappointed at the sight of it. After all this time, she still wanted to have faith in him?

What a joke.

Vortigern smiled. "What, did you expect this to be a fun trip or something, Vy? Because that's a damn tragedy. Everything I say is a lie. You shouldn't believe any of it." Peace in Britain, Percival's ideals, Caster's mission — none of it matters anymore. Nothing truly matters anymore. "I didn't care about anything. I just wanted it all gone."

The last thing Vortigern expected was for bright and determined stars to suddenly surface in Vy's eyes as she met his gaze. It was light that rivaled her tears from the Dracae's river, if not more. Was this what the other Grailed saw? Was this what made a nameless rogue like Robin Hood fall in love? This? "…I'm sure you didn't care about anything and everything, Oberon, but even so…" While extending the length of her bo staff for the incoming battle, with a sad smile and a forlorn gleam in the corners of her eyes' stars, Vy said softly, "Why did you call me by the name of your star, Titania? My name's Vy, Oberon, not 'Titania.'"

A pin could've dropped into the uncaring void of the Abyssal Worm at that very moment. It would've matched the tempo screech of his heart stopping.

Just… back then, why did he call her "Titania"? Was it because of the stars in her eyes? Or the part of him that irrationally yearned for her pure heart once they shook hands during their first meeting, even when he saw the rings she and Robin shared long before he arrived?

It was so unfair. It was all so, so unfair. Those stars could've saved him from his birth. And now those stars were going to kill him.

It was why Oberon and Vortigern were, for once, in total agreement as he smiled again. "…That is exactly what I hate about you."

You never let the smallest things go. That's why I have to end you.

"I am Oberon. Oberon Vortigern. The death waiting in opposition to all of you, a threat to all of humanity." The dutiful Insect of Abyss who swallows up the brightest of stars because you didn't let my Titania live. Because you would continue to deny her existence. "I'm not like the Beasts. I don't love anything. I'll prove that to you in this battle." The scythe made from the corpses of insects and faeries alike materialized in his hand just as all the Chaldeans took fighting stances, Vy included.

Even if you could've been her… You have to die.

Looking into the stars of Vy's bespectacled eyes, Oberon took a breath. "Let's lift the curtain on this tragedy. This is where your pilgrimage comes to an end, protectors of Proper Human History!"

Vortigern didn't expect to lose.

He already accounted for Robin and Arturia Saber being powerhouses on their own. The Holy Grail was a giant cheat code like that. But there was something about Caster and Morgan working together with the Lostbelt King Scathach-Skadi to power them up, allowing them to fight more in tandem with motherfucking Achilles just to keep up the relentless assault on Vortigern's wings. Add in Mash and her constant shield-bashing with every opening the Grailed left for her, and Vortigern knew he wasn't going to make it out. There was barely any space for an attack and every single one of his enemies were vicious.

Yet, what hurt the most in the end, ironically enough, was feeling the absolute force behind every bo staff strike Vy leveled at him between the shield bashes and weapon slashes. Even in his disguise as Oberon, he knew Vy didn't like standing at the sidelines and just giving commands, but to take every single lashing she was sending his way — that just plain hurt. More so when they were merciless. In another time, perhaps maybe in the last few weeks leading up to the Chaldeans' assault on Camelot, it would've been more in line for Vy to hit a Mors with her staff and then hide her face in Robin's mantle when everything was over. Not keep advancing on him like desperation clawed at her heels.

To see the tears lingering in the corners of her eyes every time she hit him didn't make things feel any better.

"You make me sick!" He had to push her away. He had to make it clear. She wasn't Titania. She couldn't be. But every time he backed away, she moved forward, weaving seamlessly between her Servants in the openings they provided her for attack. "Britain's already gone! You're no use to me anymore! So why couldn't you die?!"

"Because I want to live!" The response was a scream, punctuated by a rough slam of one end of her bo staff against Oberon's arm, but the force was enough to make him lurch back against the bow of the Storm Border as Vy shook her head. "Because I want to see tomorrow! I want to see my parents again, I want to get married to Big Robin, I want to live with my whole family — both human and Servant — together in the Unbleached World!" Even as Vy panted for breath, strands of brown hair falling out of her lotus-clipped ponytail and sticking to her sweaty face, the stars in her eyes were bright and determined as she met his gaze. "Call it 'selfish,' I don't care! For the people I care about, for the people I love, I just can't die today!"

…Why do you have to make it so difficult? There's no guarantee that the world will thank you for your efforts when everything is over. Hell, there's no promise that says you can return to "normal" after all this. So why—

Vortigern readied his scythe despite his weakening Spirit Core, but Oberon paused once a single tear streaked Vy's cheek on the way down to whatever the Abyssal Worm had below past the Storm Border. "And… and even if everything you said was a lie, I still… I still wanted to thank you for helping us, Oberon. For even listening to my measly life story." Her voice wobbled to match the trembling of her bottom lip and her knees shaking past her white dress. Even the stars in her eyes flickered in and out of view as she murmured, "Even if you were using me, the part of me that trusted you, right now, still wants to help you. And it's all part of my true feelings. My real feelings."

…You can't be serious.

Unclasping one hand from her bo staff, Vy stood up tall while extending it in Vortigern's direction. Her palm was open in a clear offer for a better place, a better ending, as she smiled shakily, starlight subdued in intensity past her glasses. "So it doesn't have to end this way — you don't have to fight us. Just call the Abyssal Worm off — you can come back to Chaldea. I want to help you, Oberon. Because even if I can't find your 'Titania,' I still… I still want…"

I still want to be there for you.

…Ridiculous. Just how greedy could Chaldea's last Master be?

Oberon and Vortigern came together once again to shake his head. "…That's not going to happen, Vy. I told you, didn't I? That I despised you."

Because you're not Titania.

More tears welled up in Vy's eyes, but Oberon forced himself not to think about it as he charged forward one last time. To play up the last stand of the villain in this messed-up play. It was all he could do now.

As expected, Robin, Arturia Saber, Achilles, and even Morgan charged past Vy to meet him in the last clash of battle, just to protect their little Master, and the combined force of their Noble Phantasms was enough to throw Oberon off his measly center of gravity.

It's over.

Nothing was standing underneath his feet, his scythe was disappearing from his hands, but once he was falling past the deck and over the bow of the Storm Border, he could've sworn he saw a tiny hand reach out for both of his.

"OBERON!"

How funny. Even as he was falling towards a nonexistent bottom, Vortigern couldn't help but smile wryly as he could see that hand be held back by so many other, softer, warmer ones for safety — even that High Queen's pale skinned limbs were there to cradle her — as Vy cried out his name. Because of course a girl like her would try to reach out for him. That was how much of a fool she was, and the others loved her for it.

He couldn't blame them either.

Because even to the bitter end, when he hated everything and everyone, just like every Chaldean Servant that came to meet her, he really couldn't hate the one girl who championed a sky prettier than Faerie Britain could ever spout off in its greatest days. And seriously. Who would've thought the one girl who was supposed to save Proper Human History would end up deciding to like him too? Even offer him a second chance when there was none in the face of the Abyssal Worm's neverending dream that threatened to swallow her world whole?

Ew. Just… ew.

It really would've been something worthy of a fairy tale. Something better than a bad ending that was coming to pass right about now, that was for sure.

"What an ugly voice… but I can't really lie and say it's bad, right…? What do you think… Blanca?"

And with those words said, the bright white Storm Border disappeared from view as the voice crying out his name faded from the back of his eardrums. Just like a midsummer night's dream.

"Go on, get out of here! It'll be a relief not to have to see your damn faces anymore!"

But even as the one glimpse of the blue sky of Proper Human History faded with the last exit closing, Vortigern couldn't help but wonder if his last words were a lie too.

"...You really want to try? Even when he tried to end everything, little sparrow?"

"Aye. It's the least I can do for someone who was cursed to do nothing more than destroy. Because even the biggest of world-ending villains had their reasons in acting out, and I want to know more. Wodime didn't bother to do it if his treatment of Olympus, Adele, and Macarios was anything to go off of. Beryl didn't either. I want to bother, for once."

"…Stubborn as always, aren't you?"

"Would you have me any other way?"

"Nope."

"Hee hee. I love you too, Big Robin."

He was supposed to be falling forever. Resting and waiting for wherever his Abyssal Worm would take him.

Faerie Britain was gone, after all. He achieved one of his goals. Sure, Proper Human History was left behind, but oh well. Who cared anymore? He certainly didn't. And anything else — anyone else who fell down into his Abyssal Worm was already long gone. His first target was eliminated. What was the point in sticking around for more?

But as Oberon tucked his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, the space around him started to shake. Light was glimmering from the corner of his eye. Where was it coming from? Why was it shining down on his face? It was definitely getting annoying…

Blinking revealed the light growing into a bright star (from faraway, maybe?), illuminating the darkness and blinding his vision the longer he looked at it. Vortigern was recoiling from the impact, raising his hands to block out the light, but it was surprisingly warm and… and grabbing his hands?

Why was it grabbing for him? Why did it feel familiar?

…Titania?

Something was tugging at him through the light — gently, but persistently. Maybe like one of the insects of his Autumn Forest back in Faerie Britain, or even a child-like faerie just wanting some guidance. But the tugging had extended to both of his hands, carrying him up, and up, and up—

Instinctively shutting his eyes made him forget he was even falling. And… and why was there solid ground underneath his feet? When did—

Vortigern slowly blinked. The butterfly wings on his back flapped once, then twice. The blue robes of his first disguise were back in place again, but unlike the darkness of the Abyssal Worm, all he could see now were white walls, a fading blue summoning circle, and—

"O…Oberon…"

A high-pitched voice on the verge of tears. A familiar white dress. Three red lotus petals making up her Command Seals on the back of her gloved left hand. One pink flower ring sitting on that same hand. Long brown hair held back in a ponytail by a lotus ribbon clip. Star-filled eyes not even marred by the glasses sitting on her nose, reflecting his image with clear hope and joy.

…What the hell? Why is this happening?

You're not Titania. You're—

After a moment's pause to think, Oberon found himself sighing. "Oh, I see. Lies will keep on circulating until the Human Order stabilizes, huh?" With a shake of his head, Oberon looked at his new Master with his best attempt at a smile. "Fine, I give up. I'll play along this time. That's just the kind of person you are." Someone who would even try to give a liar like me a chance. "My name is Oberon. You called me, so I'll help you out. Even if it disgusts me to the very core of my being."

Yet in spite of his barely veiled discontent, all Vy Duong did when meeting his gaze was smile, swiping at her eyes with one gloved hand while nodding her head. Gratitude filled her voice as she chirped, "Th-That's fine! D-Disgust works just fine — every relationship is a work in progress, anyways! Just…" A few droplets fell to the floor as she giggled shakily. "Just, just welcome back to the world of the living, Oberon. It's good to see you again."

When glancing over her head to make eye contact with her pensive May King of a future spouse standing guard, Oberon already knew his new job of "Proper Human History Servant" was starting to settle in place and rolled his eyes.

"Good," my ass. This is going to suck.

As much as Vy was proving to be the biggest fool around in summoning him back from the Abyssal Worm, the rest of Chaldea was not because Oberon already knew he wasn't going to be trusted right off the bat. After all, there was a reason someone as naive and honestly foolish as Vy survived for so long — and it wasn't just from her stubborn drive of not giving up on the people around her. No. What it came down to was the bonds she made with her Servants — Heroic Spirits who, out of their own volition, loved her just as much as she loved them.

So when someone wronged her — even going as far as trying to kill her — of course they would take offense. Even if she never saw any wrong, they would — all in the name of protecting her. The few human staff Chaldea had left would do nothing else but agree, anyway.

It was why Oberon could do nothing but huff as Morgan tugged at the rope connecting the makeshift handcuffs keeping him to her side, walking through the hallways at her lead. "Don't dally," was the cold remark sent his way as she kept her fast stride, shaking her head. Blue flames licked at her heels, nearly scalding his own from barely hidden rage as he passed various doors. "I do not like this arrangement just as much as you, you shitty bug. In fact, I would much rather crush you underneath my throne than give you your first tour of Chaldea, but Vy used up a lot of mana to summon you and she seems to want you here." With what could only be graciously called a "dainty" huff, Morgan shook her head. "Thus, I was assigned as your 'guide' in her place. Be honored."

"How generous of you." Even when they both were alive and not Heroic Spirits, they were separated by fame and circumstance — he couldn't talk back to her like this then. It was why Oberon knew he could indulge himself in some jabs he couldn't afford in Faerie Britain now with their "equal" standing as Servants, smiling brightly. "Who would've thought the High Queen Morgan would buddy up with a lot of ghosts from Proper Human History just to defend a bitch of a forgetful princess who doesn't even have a castle to call her own?"

Yet strangely, the jab this time seemed to be hitting some kind of target, because before Oberon could react, the rope keeping his handcuffs together tugged him forward, and then a stinging pain was ringing against his cheek. Blinking revealed Morgan pulling her hand back, cold and absolute fury burning in her blue eyes — enough emotion to highlight the previous blankness coloring the irises, in fact. "Don't you dare call Vy that," she hissed, pure venom lacing the words as she tugged at the rope enough to make the bindings painful against his wrists as she got into his face. "I am already hard at work making her a proper treehouse of another home as she asked for back at the Dracae's river, and you have no right to call her a 'bitch of a forgetful princess' when you were never truly a 'king,' Vortigern."

"Coming from the High Queen of a cursed fairy tale version of Britain, that's rich." Oberon laughed, ignoring the sensation of Morgan slapping him again as he kept his eyes closed. "Vy was never a 'princess' in the first place — why should I call her that nicely when she still denied your perfect kingdom like every other Lostbelt? Forgot it like every other human from Chaldea and Proper Human History?"

Despite aiming below the metaphorical belt, the fury in Morgan's eyes only grew in intensity as she pulled at the rope keeping his handcuffs in place. It definitely hurt, but nothing compared to being forced to look into those ice blue eyes and seeing the punishment they promised if he said anymore. "…Even after she summoned you through tears," she whispered harshly, "you still don't understand why you are here in the first place, Vortigern?" Spitting at his heels in disgust, Morgan went on to turn her back on him, tugging at the rope with enough force to make him stumble forward on his next few steps. "…No wonder my sister and her fellow Grailed assigned me to you in her fatigue-idled absence. It looks like I have to teach you Vy's methodology myself. Because unlike what you claim to be as the truth, she hasn't forgotten."

"Oh?" Ignoring the stinging of both of his cheeks, Oberon grinned. "Where are we going then—OW! DON'T PULL ON MY EAR!"

"Do not question me, worm, and just follow if you wish to live here. I will not take 'no' for an answer."

Just great.

Out of all the places Oberon expected to be dragged to, he wasn't accounting for a temple of all things. No. A "temple" was a term too generous for the room he was peeking into with Morgan's explicit permission. The best way to describe what he was seeing was a makeshift altar — a memorial — holding nothing but a storage cabinet, a few seat cushions, a standing bell gong and a "wooden fish" block (a chuông bát and a mõ in Vietnamese Buddhist tradition, or so they were called per the data Chaldea's Summoning System was supplying him with), and a podium with a notebook sitting in the center.

And sitting on one of the provided cushions, slowly turning the pages of the centerpiece notebook and tapping the wooden fish with a cushioned gong stick in a practiced rhythm, was the very "bitchy" princess that called him to Chaldea, murmuring something under her breath. Nearby, Muramasa — was it the Saber Muramasa? — was occasionally tapping the standing bell with his own gong stick to match the rhythm Vy had set with the wooden fish, keeping his free hand raised in front of his chest in prayer. Just behind him, a female swordsman — "Miyamoto Musashi" was what Chaldea's Summoning System called her? — pressed both hands together to mimic Muramasa's own stance. Flanking them all was a Caster — Sanzang was her name? — lightly waving her stave every now and then to match the quiet song set in the room. Whether or not the four noticed Oberon and Morgan's shared presence, there was no outward sign given. Vy merely continued her impromptu "chant," murmuring without any interruptions.

"What is going on, Your Majesty—?" Oberon did his best not to wince once Morgan was deftly pinching the back of his wrist through his handcuffs, peeking into the room with growing disbelief. At least it was his wrist and not his ear again in regards to the newest serving of pain. "The hell—?!"

"Listen, you daft fool," Morgan hissed, elbowing him once Oberon turned his head to raise a brow at her. "It is better for you to figure it out for yourself than for me to spell it out for your useless ears. Or I will pull at them again."

With nothing better to do, Oberon turned back to the memorial and concentrated. The notebook's pages fluttered around from the air conditioning inside the room, but Vy was keeping them from flying away with her free hand despite how it shook from clear exhaustion, and—

"Hope, Mike, Coral, Boggart, Murian, Redra Bit, Gareth, Percival, everyone in the Round Table Army, Cnoc ni Riabh, Melusine, Baobhan Sith, Barghest, High Queen Morgan, Blanca, Ria—"

Oberon lurched back. Was Vy reciting the names of everyone she knew who died in Faerie Britain? Everyone Chaldea knew?

"Patxi, Gerda, everyone in the villages with Qin Shi Huang, Kasuga-no-Tsubone, Asha, Ajai, Prakash, Adele, Macarios, Artemis, Ares, Prometheus-Hephaestus—"

No. Vy was reciting the names of every Lostbelt denizen Chaldea apparently met and knew together throughout their journey. While bowing her head and tapping the wooden fish for — for composure, keeping one hand folded against the notebook. For prayer. For their apparent safe passage in death, if the wooden fish and standing bell rhythm were any indication. How long had she been doing this? When did she start doing this? Was the notebook how she kept records of their lost time?

No. The right question was…

After all this time, she… she never truly forgot all of their stories?

Disgust was budding in the back of Oberon's throat, but this time, it wasn't directed at the only human in the vicinity as he closed his eyes to Morgan's searching gaze. "…I see that I made another mistake."

"Indeed you did." For once in his entire life as a Calamity-turned Servant, Vortigern felt tempted to throw up on himself as Morgan proceeded to drag him away after saying her piece, completely unrepentant in doing so. This time, he had no will to resist her.

She had every right to pull trash like him out of the stage's spotlight.

It took about two weeks for Oberon to be able to walk on his own throughout Novum Chaldea. Even then, such a right was limited, with Servants and staff members alike giving him suspicious looks every time he passed, at every corner to boot, without fail. The lighter, magecraft-limiting handcuffs sitting on his wrists were the only thing that seemed to ease the tension, because without them, he knew he would be under a much crueler thumb. (Especially after Vy decided to raise him to Final Ascension and max his Active Skills, of all things. The stupefied looks on all the Servants' faces would've been funny to take in if not for how cold the room felt that day.) He already knew a certain Foreigner of a Japanese painter was eyeing him for his next mistake through the camera feeds, and he did not want to become materials for her newest paint set.

(Morgan threatened him enough as is during those first two weeks and he was quickly becoming tired of Vortigern-patented staves digging into his feet. The three EMIYAs and the one Okita Alter calling themselves "Counter Guardians" going on to even size him up for target practice didn't help his sleep either.)

It didn't stop his current walk through the Wandering Sea from feeling miserable, though. What was the point of his being here if Vy was just seeing him as one of many Servants? He wasn't even sure why Blanca — how did she come back from Cernunnos' many curses with his Summoning, anyway? Was it another Chaldea-brand miracle? — was leading him down this particular hallway, flapping her pretty antennae and fluffy wings in the air while soaring along whatever current the air conditioner was providing. It was at least better than sitting in the darkness of his assigned room alone, so he followed her.

The last thing he expected was for her to perch on top of the touch panel of a door that wasn't pointed out during his initial "tour" with Morgan. Compared to the other doors in the Wandering Sea, this one was slightly bigger, adorned with a handmade sign spelling out "Grail Lounge" in bright and colorful letters that couldn't be missed.

Grail Lounge… Is this where Robin and Arturia and the other Grailed—

Oberon didn't have time to entertain that thought once Blanca raised one fluffy wing to touch the panel at the door, making it swing open with a quiet whoosh to let her in. Amazingly, the door remained open as he stood outside, and for whatever reason — Curiosity? Anger? Something? — he found himself stepping forward to walk through the open entrance.

What greeted him was nothing like the throne room of Faerie Britain's Camelot. With the kotatsu table, the nearby kitchenette, and mounted TV set, Oberon could've sworn this room was a fancier version of one of the pub guest rooms Mike the faerie had set up with Da Vinci's help, only with more things to do. There was a pool table, comfier chairs than any of the recommended rec rooms, a hanging hammock, and a partition holding a single bed where—

Oberon gulped.

Only a few feet away, where Blanca had made her new sitting place at the pillow side, Vy slept peacefully in the one bed of the Grail Lounge, a hand reaching out to hold a slumbering Mash's own nearby as the Shielder laid in her own little foldable canopy. From a safe distance, Robin was unclasping his green mantle, tucking his "little sparrow" in it for extra warmth while being careful of Blanca's presence, dropping a fluffy blanket onto Mash's shoulders too once he finished his first task. For some reason, Blanca seemed particularly dead set on resting near Vy's pillowcase, because once the little Master mumbled something in her sleep, the moth princess raised one fuzzy wing to gently pat Vy's forehead, relaxing the girl's furrowed brow with her touch.

Am I witnessing that famous "daily nap" of Vy's or something? But then why is Blanca and Mash here—

Oberon couldn't even find the words coming to his tongue once Robin stood up to full height and met his eyes with one raised brow. "…Huh. I know we agreed on being more lenient with Blanca flying around because she didn't cause any trouble," the Archer murmured in a slow voice, "but I wasn't expecting her to lead you here." Carefully crossing his arms over his chest with a frown, the exasperation grew in Robin's voice as he said in a lower tone, "What are you doing here, Pretender? Planning to lie to my little sparrow and her kouhai again with your pretty words?"

Oh, so he's not using my True Name here. Okay then. If he wants to play that game—

Vortigen folded his wings (useless things, dragonfly wings were just obstacles than actual help) behind his back to hide his own frustration. "…You wouldn't believe me if I said I had no plan, would you?"

"No shit," Robin retorted, tapping one finger against his upper arm pointedly. The mana around him was starting to tremble, enough to make Vy murmur something unintelligible before Robin turned his head and noticed his near mishap. Getting to one knee and leaning over to gently brush some hair out of the girl's face seemed to be enough to keep Vy in dreamland, but it didn't stop Robin from hissing in Oberon's direction, "If not for Vy wanting to summon you, I would've killed you as soon as you walked out of the Summoning Circle."

Okay, deserved, but harsh.

"…Then why haven't you?" Vortigern finally choked out through Oberon's curse, shaking his head. "Class disadvantage doesn't matter to you with Holy Grail cheat codes, right?"

Robin glared at him. Without even tearing his gaze away from Oberon's own, the Archer raised a hand to stroke Vy's cheek, carefully wiping away what looked like tear residue from the corners of her eyes with practiced ease. "She's the reason why I haven't. And she's the only reason otherwise. You've given me plenty of evidence to the contrary as to why you should be alive, Vortigern."

Once Vortigern caught a glimpse of the silver and green leaf band from Robin's right middle finger, the same disgust and envy from their first meeting started pooling into his gut all over again. Of course the one love Vy had in her life would react like this. If he truly cared for her, he would never let potential threats linger. "…Why do you follow her then?" traitorously left his mouth instead of a witty retort or an insult to throw Robin's way. "If she's going to summon someone like me, why even bother?"

"Because I trust her, unlike you with every single person you've lied to." Stroking Vy's cheek one last time, Robin got to his feet, placing a hand on his hip while frowning. "She decided to give a nameless criminal a chance because she enjoyed a May King's story. Least I could do was let her give an ungrateful liar one chance too after she cried over you, Vortigern."

Vortigern took a deep breath. "…There's no point in that."

Happiness doesn't exist with fiction, anyway. Just like with my fake star… she's not—

Vy is not Titania.

So how could you see her as your "Maid Marian" when you never had one?

Putting on another theatrical smile that would maybe make the scum Shakespeare proud, Oberon said instead, "Why are you still talking with me, then?"

Robin gave him one quirked eyebrow. "Because you're not the first Servant Vy's summoned who's tried to kill her before. Why else do you think you're here and not poisoned, 'King of Faeries'? You're still on your 'trial period.'"

Out of anything Vortigern was expecting, he wasn't prepared for that. "…You're kidding."

"Nope. The others are gone compared to you. Burned. Banned. What the fuck ever." Robin waved a hand at him, almost as if he was brushing some dust off his shoulder when shooing him away. "Just try asking Vy when she's awake, won't you? If you're still doubting your status here, I mean. It'd be better than trying to talk to a rogue who's suddenly getting very tired of bugs gnawing at his boots."

Vortigern didn't know what compelled him to follow Robin's recommendation, but he couldn't get the taste of bile out from the back of his throat. It didn't help that he could clearly hear the last "suggestion" the May King had for his ears just as he turned on his heels to reach the door of the Grail Lounge.

"By the way, for the record? Blanca makes for a better companion than you here, Oberon, so get out of the Grail Lounge. You're not welcome."

Just great.

Hearing Robin's voice turn affectionately soft in response to a sleepy murmur of "Big Robin?" on his way out the closing door seconds later was merely extra salt into the wound.

When compared to the cold former High Queen and the very sarcastic May King, Vy felt and sounded like a warm breeze when it came to her personal room. Heck, even when Oberon dragged his feet when approaching her door the next day, (barely) acknowledging the poppy flower colored pencil drawing hanging there asking for a knock, he could hear typing of some kind as he raised his hand.

Is she working again?

Knock, knock.

"Yes? The door is open, so come on in!"

That high-pitched voice didn't sound as nauseating as the days he had fallen down into the Abyssal Worm and subsequently got pulled out, but Oberon still had to swallow bile as he pressed the nearby touch panel to let himself in. The quiet whoosh of the automatic door didn't help his nerves either, as what greeted him inside was a room very similar to his own in terms of simplicity.

A single bed, a desk, a nearby shower stall and a dresser, and a nightstand was all that was present inside. The desk and nightstand were the only things holding any kind of personality, what with the various picture frames (depicting other humans — Vy's family, maybe? — and moments with the other Servants; Robin and the other Grailed being clear standouts of the bunch) and books (manga and light novels?) decorating their surfaces.

And, sure enough, Vy was working, even when dressed in a casual black t-shirt (adorned with a white cat cutely raising its paws and ironically saying "I HATE EVERYONE EQUALLY" to the viewer — hah) and blue leggings at her desk. Her fingers glided across the keyboard in front of her, one of many electronic display screens flickering in and out of view as she continued to type. "If you want to talk," Vy murmured while glancing past her currently open screen to absently meet his gaze, loose strands of hair falling from her ponytail to hit her nose, "you can pull up a chair. I'll be done writing this report about the latest Lostbelt to Director Goredolf in the next few minutes."

Ever so hardworking, aren't you… Titania?

It took a moment for Oberon to realize he was doing as Vy asked without protest, sitting next to her and choosing to reach out with one hand. The Chaldean Master didn't react at first when his fingers cupped a strand of her hair, continuing to type whatever report she was working on without breaking her focus. Once he ran one claw through a tangle, though, she startled, blinking the glare out of her glasses before turning to him. "…Oberon?" Vy whispered, blinding stars starting to surface in her eyes from curiosity and confusion. "Is everything okay?"

Past Oberon's curse, Vortigern felt his voice crack. "Why…"

Vy tilted her head at him, unintentionally bumping her cheek against his knuckles as he held onto the one strand of brown hair he had in his grasp.

Why can't I speak the truth, why can't I ask you for your reasons, why can't I apologize to you with my voice for judging you before knowing you, why can't I—

"Why are you Titania?"

Vy blinked once, twice, then thrice. Vortigern wanted to vomit again, cursing himself and his Spirit Origin for even manifesting with Oberon's curse to do nothing but lie. He wanted to say more, he wanted to know why Oberon kept seeing her as "Titania" when "Titania" was nothing but fiction — hell, even know why Vy summoned him — but nothing else was coming to fruition on the tip of his tongue. All he could do was choke and look up at her.

Even then, the stars in Vy's brown eyes grew in intensity and warmth as she proceeded to fully turn her chair away from her computer display to face him. Both her hands reached up to cup the clawed one he was using to hold onto her hair, squeezing warmly to match the soft smile on her face. "Because I'm Vy," she whispered in lieu of an answer, leaning in to press her forehead against the tips of his clawed fingers. Did she see through his contradiction again? "A simple Vietnamese human girl named Vy. A girl who, for better or worse, cares too much for the people around her."

Oberon took a breath and it took a moment for him to realize Vortigern was choking up. "...Even for a liar?"

"Aye. Even for a liar." The stars in Vy's eyes were hypnotizing, almost drawing him in with the illusion of, Everything will be okay, as she smiled wider. "Because the Vietnamese girl Vy was taught kindness by a rogue who didn't have a name beyond 'Robin Hood' in the fairy tales. Who says she can't be kind to a lonely liar too?"

It's the least I can do.

Fool, was all Oberon and Vortigern could think in unison. But Oberon-Vortigern, the former Abyssal Worm, now turned Heroic Spirit, merely leaned in to bump Vy's forehead with his, just once, before lurching forward to press his head against her shoulder. "Alright… Alright then, Hermia. I'll try to follow your tale to the end."

After all, Hermia in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream had fought long and hard just to find the love she craved. And for a fool of a Master like Vy Duong, a name like Hermia seemed more fitting when the king of her heart had been chosen long before Oberon had come into the picture.

That name of Hermia would have to suffice for now. And besides. The soft touch of a slightly calloused palm patting his hair past his crown was nice enough to indulge in.