Fate/Black Dawn

Omake Four

Chaldean Antics, 3

Slowly, Ruler raised his hand from his book and quirked the rims of his glasses down as he looked over the lenses over the length of the table he'd taken up in the library- Morgan having conscripted a chair at his side and using it more as a footrest since she was, otherwise, almost wholly in his lap.

His gaze, glimmering gold standing out from his ashen features and the red markings that spread from his jaw-line and downwards across his flesh, was settled fast on the three women leaning heavily on the table across from his wife and himself. The black-haired Archer, the purple-haired Lancer, and Artoria- in her Saber guise.

He had a feeling this was about to go very poorly.

"Can I-"

"Awawawawa-!" He paused, letting his eyes close as poor Shikibu once again had an accident as a result of her E-rank strength. A quick glance down at Morgan's head in his lap confirmed that the Witch was still napping- or at least faking it.

He'd put good money on the latter. He knew his wife relatively well. After all, he'd been with her for nearly two millennia until the whole "incineration of humanity" thing.

"Ahem. Help you ladies?"

Yes, it's going to be a bad day to read.

+x+xx+x+x+

"Yo, Tristan!" The red-haired man blinked, turning on a foot as he came to regard a blonde-haired, red-wearing woman. Ah, Mordred. Though, did her armor look different-?

The extremely violent way his face promptly met the floor after her gauntlet slammed into his face made him fairly sure he must have done something to upset the Knight of Rebellion.

For the life of him, he didn't know why, though.

+x+x+xx+x+x

"Shirou." Ruler glanced up idly from polishing Excalibur Morgan's edge, being greeted by a familiar- if disheartening face.

Standing quietly, the Lion King variant of his beloved Artoria. It was true, he'd done as much as he could to avoid any of her forms at large, though . . .

This was the one that hurt the most. Seeing the one whom he'd faced down so personally on that day so long ago. The one whom he'd killed, and cemented his own status as an Anti-Heroic Spirit. Quietly, he banished the blade back into the shadows and began to stand and leave-

- Only for her hands to softly take hold of his shoulders and pull him in.

Lips touched to lips, and his face could not have appeared more confused. Even while nearby, lurking in the shadows, a blonde-haired and green-eyed woman simply watched quietly, raising her right hand and idly rolling it over a time or two, those eyes fixated pointedly on her ring finger.

AN:

I said it before on AO3 for those of you who read it there, but Black Dawn itself is completely done. I started putting work into Drops of Red, and have stalled a bit on it, though I'll admit quite a few of the reviews have had interest in either a sequel Grail War with the Pendragons (The True End variants, I imagine) acting out. Plenty have wanted more of the Chaldean/Grand Order silliness, but frankly I'm still working on Grand Ball, so I don't intend to do a second series about that.

If I get some support for the Pendragons, though . . . .