The castle’s defenses have been fortified, and the army of the fae were ready for a battle. At their helm was Vivian, dressed in her armor and equipped with her grand sword. The Beast would not win, for the sake of everyone and everything that they’ve hurt.
Rest easy, Lancelot. Mother will avenge you.
The title of Grand Saber was nothing but that, a title, until tonight.
She walked the hallways, before coming across a mysterious, blonde person of great beauty. They said they were a new Servant of the Chaldean Master’s, but after the death of her son and the attempted murder of another Master, the faerie queen was skeptical. They turned to her with a smile on their face, one that didn’t betray any emotion.
On the surface, this Servant seemed normal. A Rider class, with a decent amount of power, though not as much as some of the stronger Chaldean Servants. They seemed content, sipping languidly at a glass of wine and mingling with other guests. That is, until they spotted Vivian.
“Ah, Lady Vivian.” They greeted, their pale blue eyes shining with life. “It is nice to see you about. I heard about what happened to your son, my deepest condolences.”
Vivian said nothing, letting her sword appear in her hand. The guest speaking and the ones they were talking to looked alarmed, and they attempted to back away after seeing the expression on the faerie queen’s face. She didn’t give them the chance to escape.
She ran them through with her blade, splattering blood all over the floor and her elegant dress. A look of shock was on their face as their head slumped down, looking at their chest. Vivian had stabbed the blonde directly through the heart. There was nothing but silence, until a shrill laugh pierced the air.
“So, you’ve figured me out? How astute of you. Or perhaps it was a little insect I should have squashed?”
Vivian withdrew her blade quickly, before going back in for another stab. The blonde simply smiled with blood dripping from their lips, narrowly avoiding the blow.
The blonde’s clothes melted into robes, and beautiful white wings erupted from their back. Their laughter echoed through the ballroom, before flapping their wings. Wind in the room kicked up as they gained distance from the angry Saber.
“I am Beast. Judgement, if you wish to know my true name. I seek the end of all life.” Their smile was haunting, their once blue eyes shifted to a sickening red. Everything about this screamed danger, but Vivian was still ready to fight. “I must say, your reactions to what I’ve done were amusing. But I believe it is time to end this farce.”
“In three days time, Chaldea will be annihilated, Avalon with it. There is no escaping my sight, for my eyes miss nothing. I suggest you live as much as you can before I kill you all.”
A flash of light, and they were gone. Leaving behind a single, white feather that fluttered to the floor.
❝Oh No Sir Lancelot has died? So sad… How unfortunate…❞ Not that Gawain truly felt sympathetic toward him.
Vivian is literally sobbing into her wine.
Goetia paused. A Beast?
“A Beast calling themselves ‘Judgement’...” She murmured. She wondered where it was lurking. She had sent some to find them... but no one had borne any fruit as of yet.
“They butchered my son, and one guest is fighting for her life...”
She’s on her fourth glass of wine. Vivian’s really stretching her resources thin looking for the Beast... perhaps she will look for them herself.
Gala Asks | Accepting!
@pretenderisms asked: ' Lady Vivian, surely you can forgive my antics from last year by me making it up to you, no~? ' Oh, this is a change from how smug he was acting earlier. Also ignore the fact that he let all his bug friends in again. His smiling is charming, but fake as always. ' Here, I even got that wine for you that I promised to pay you back for. '
She gives him a suspicious glare. She’s too grief-stricken to kill Oberon outright, but she’s fast as her fists clench almost painfully tight into his collar. “I know what you are. I know what you are doing. Do you truly think someone so suspicious evades my eyes?!”
She got louder as she spoke, ending her sentence in a yell. But the despair returned to her eyes and she let the other go, slumping back down to the chair she’s been occupying for hours. “And yet... the Beast eludes me...”
She remains silent for a moment. She waves a hand, and the current fae attendant with her offers to take the bottle of wine from Oberon, pouring it into two glasses, one in front of Vivian and the other at the empty seat across from the queen. “Sit. I must ask you something. I promise this will interest you.”
“If you find the Beast... and expose them to the Gala... I will overlook your transgressions towards the gala... and Avalon as a whole.”
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#𝐀𝐕𝐋𝐎𝐍. an independent, fandom-unaffiliated portrayal of merlin from arthurian legend & fate/grand order! if you like manic pixie dream wizards, pathetic men, dads, or characters who are really sad all the time but go :33 about it anyway, consider reblogging this mini pr//mo & following me!! i’m very crossover & oc friendly, with a wide variety of verses and aus to choose from that… certainly will be written up eventually! ( run by beleth, it/its, 21yrs old )
He had been looking for her for a while, strangely unable to track down the lady of the manor. And even more strangely, unable to track down Berserker, which is why Kariya had started looking for Vivian.
There’s an odd feeling of chill in the air when he spots her, though Kariya hardly notices as he limps over. “Lady Vivian!”
Actually, once he’s closer… it feels like her relation to Berserker is much more obvious than it normally is. “Lady Vivian? What happened? One of your servants stopped and said you were looking for Berserker.”
The air around her feels so suffocating. Everything feels suffocating. Her teeth were audibly gritting from her stress and anger, and her normally honey-colored eyes had darkened to amber. Those eyes snapped up to see who was talking to her, bloodshot from tears.
“I was looking for him.” She muttered, trying not to be hostile to someone who was worried about her wellbeing, but she was shaking. “But he was murdered. Murdered by a filthy monster with no place in my realm, or anywhere.”
❝ Eh? Chadlot died? Ok, more booze for me. ❞ the nonchalant commentary came carelessly. He isn’t even planning to attend but he might steal some of the beverages.
“You dare mock the death of my son...?”
There was an aura of murderous intent around the faerie, and she was clenching her sword so hard that it was beginning to indent on her skin.
“Lady Vivian... we’ve looked everywhere in the castle and surrounding area. The only thing found was a large pool of his blood.”
The other faerie’s words rang in her ears. She had been beside herself when Lancelot went missing last night; it wasn’t like him to do such a thing. But hearing they had found his blood in a hallway late last night. That, combined with the rumors of a Beast roaming the halls... Vivian’s mind was going a mile a minute, her golden eyes frantic as she tried to figure out why such a thing would happen.
“No.... no, no no no no no no no...!” She hyperventilated, and her attendant was quick to be by her side. She knew her son was a Servant, that he could be summoned back through luck and perseverance. But to experience his death yet again... it never got any easier. “My boy...! My sweet boy...!”
She went quiet after a few minutes of hysterics.
“... it should have been me. sHOULDN’T A MOTHER PASS BEFORE HER CHILDREN?”
The other faerie glanced at her queen, a bewildered look on her face. “M-My lady?”
“My son deserved everything. And now a Beast has come and taken him away.” Vivian’s voice was flat and cold, completely opposite to the warm and bubbly soul she normally was. “I’ll kill them. I’llkillthemkillthemkillthEM-”
-
Vivian was beginning to panic, she couldn’t sense her son’s Spirit Origin anywhere.
“Lancelot...? Where did you go, sweetie?”
It was no secret a Beast had infiltrated the gala. But they were hidden; a mask in plain sight. Self Modification was a hell of a skill, being able to change a Spirit Origin like it was putty. Judgement molded it into a perfect little disguise, but there were eyes on them from the start.
The Beast could feel the inferior one’s gaze boring into their back at almost all times. They had to admit, to have such a look was moderately vexing. But no matter, Judgement would take care of them soon.
It was late into the night, where the beautiful midnight sky was lulling many of the partygoers to sleep. Some lingered in the ballroom, but besides those spare few, things were quiet. A perfect time to cause the chaos that Beast desperately craved. Once they were certain they were alone, Beast morphed to their true form: a beautiful angel, hellbent on destruction of all life. They also let their Beastly Spirit Origin shine for just a moment; their minder would be here soon, no doubt.
And right they were. Rounding a corner, the suspect came across the Beast in all their glory. The violet shock of hair made Judgement raise an eyebrow, but a chilling smile remained on their face.
“Lancelot du Lac…” They said with a sonorous voice. Everything about them was beautiful, except for the deep seated black that was their soul. “How amusing. I was just on my way to kill your mother.”
Lancelot, like an unhinged dog, snarled and readied a blade. Judgement’s smile grew, and they let their Mystic Eyes activate. Where Lancelot was about to launch an all out assault, the Mystic Eyes froze him to the spot.
With a lackadaisical flutter of their many wings, the Beast floated closer. As their proximity increased, the Berserker went into a frenzy. Still, he could not move. Judgement was hovering before him, their malicious eyes glowing in the dark of the hall. They rested their hand on his cheek, and had Lancelot not been paralyzed, he would have tried to bite the angel’s hand off.
“Child of man, raised by fae.” Judgement began, running a clawed finger along Lancelot’s chin. “I know the perfect place for you, man who forsakes humanity.”
“The Realm of the Dead is where you belong.”
With a flash of movement, Judgement quickly withdrew his hand from Lancelot. A beat of silence, then, Lancelot’s head rolled forward, falling pitifully to the ground below. His body quickly followed, gravity pulling it down. The Berserker faded into golden dust.
Not a speck of blood on them, Judgement reverted back to their gala attire, wiping their hand on the front of their clothes. They gracefully stepped over the pool of blood on the floor, before finding a room to retire in for the evening.
It was no secret a Beast had infiltrated the gala. But they were hidden; a mask in plain sight. Self Modification was a hell of a skill, being able to change a Spirit Origin like it was putty. Judgement molded it into a perfect little disguise, but there were eyes on them from the start.
The Beast could feel the inferior one’s gaze boring into their back at almost all times. They had to admit, to have such a look was moderately vexing. But no matter, Judgement would take care of them soon.
It was late into the night, where the beautiful midnight sky was lulling many of the partygoers to sleep. Some lingered in the ballroom, but besides those spare few, things were quiet. A perfect time to cause the chaos that Beast desperately craved. Once they were certain they were alone, Beast morphed to their true form: a beautiful angel, hellbent on destruction of all life. They also let their Beastly Spirit Origin shine for just a moment; their minder would be here soon, no doubt.
And right they were. Rounding a corner, the suspect came across the Beast in all their glory. The violet shock of hair made Judgement raise an eyebrow, but a chilling smile remained on their face.
“Lancelot du Lac…” They said with a sonorous voice. Everything about them was beautiful, except for the deep seated black that was their soul. “How amusing. I was just on my way to kill your mother.”
Lancelot, like an unhinged dog, snarled and readied a blade. Judgement’s smile grew, and they let their Mystic Eyes activate. Where Lancelot was about to launch an all out assault, the Mystic Eyes froze him to the spot.
With a lackadaisical flutter of their many wings, the Beast floated closer. As their proximity increased, the Berserker went into a frenzy. Still, he could not move. Judgement was hovering before him, their malicious eyes glowing in the dark of the hall. They rested their hand on his cheek, and had Lancelot not been paralyzed, he would have tried to bite the angel’s hand off.
“Child of man, raised by fae.” Judgement began, running a clawed finger along Lancelot’s chin. “I know the perfect place for you, man who forsakes humanity.”
“The Realm of the Dead is where you belong.”
With a flash of movement, Judgement quickly withdrew his hand from Lancelot. A beat of silence, then, Lancelot’s head rolled forward, falling pitifully to the ground below. His body quickly followed, gravity pulling it down. The Berserker faded into golden dust.
Not a speck of blood on them, Judgement reverted back to their gala attire, wiping their hand on the front of their clothes. They gracefully stepped over the pool of blood on the floor, before finding a room to retire in for the evening.
Tiny faerie wants to dance with someone. Won’t someone indulge this sweet lady?
