Ereshkigal sighed as she cradled the stuffed leopard in her hands. On most days, the toy never failed to bring a smile to her face—not just for its soft fluff, so different from the coarse sands of Kur, but also because of Vlad's serious expression when he had handed it to her. Not that she would ever allow herself to be seen holding it in public, of course. A goddess had her dignity, and she had no desire to build a reputation as the next Artemis. Still, it was a fond symbol of the life she was building for herself in Chaldea.

A life she was currently neglecting, holed up in her room for the third day in a row. Ereshkigal heaved a sigh as she lightly ran a finger along one fluffy ear. After so much time spent alone in the underworld, brooding on her throne of shadows was the last thing she needed. She should be sharing sweets with Illyasviel, or grinning as she clashed her spear against Mash's shield in the training hall. All the little pleasures she'd come to know since she had arrived.

But right now, she couldn't find it in herself to look forward to any of them. They all seemed pale and gray in the face of her simmering (grief) anger. If she went out to see her new comrades, she wasn't sure that she could keep her emotions entirely in check and the pleasant mask on her face. And if they saw her angry, they would stop thinking of her as their ally, and see only the terrible queen of Kur. Her throat constricted painfully at the thought of seeing fear in their eyes; in Master's eyes.

And if that wasn't bad enough, if she ran into Ishtar… well, she wasn't sure what she would do. But it would probably involve excessive amounts of property damage, she thought to herself wryly. As the responsible one, it's up to me to take steps to prevent that. Yes, this is the correct course of action.

So she sat on her chair and quietly stroked the toy, and told herself she didn't mind the silence. It was a comfort, really. She was a great goddess and she didn't need anyone and—

She almost jumped when a knock sounded at the door. There she finally is, thought Ereshkigal with a vicious tilt of her chin, come to tell me how rotten and gloomy I am. I'm going to enjoy letting her have it. She rose from her seat, then paused to check herself in the mirror above the vanity. Crown perfectly in place, shoulders straight, mouth set in a stern line. The very image of a proud goddess.

Nodding with satisfaction, she strode over to the door and opened it, glaring imperiously at the insolent petitioner.

And blinked when she found herself confronted with startled amber eyes framed by reddish hair. Ritsuka's fist was frozen in mid-air from where she had been ready to knock again. In her other hand, she held a small red case.

They stared at each awkwardly for a moment, before the magus smiled nervously at her.

"Hi, Eresh. May I come in?"

Ereshkigal could have kicked herself. She had been so busy worrying over her own feelings that she had neglected to think how her Master would react. Come to think of it, she had forgotten the tablet too, hadn't she? She had been so caught up in her foul mood that Ritsuka had slipped from her thoughts entirely. Some responsible goddess you are, she chided herself before pushing it away. She could self-recriminate later. Right now, she needed to reassure Ritsuka that all was well.

So she let her expression soften a little, trading her glare for a confident smile. "Everything is fine, Master. I am ready whenever you need me, as per our contract."

"I know," said Ritsuka seriously . "You are a very reliable goddess." Then she smiled, and it was almost breathtaking, the way it lit up her whole face. "But I'd also like to visit my friend."

"F-friend…" murmured Ereshkigal, unable to stop the blush heating her cheeks. "Then yes, of course! Please come in."

The goddess stood aside to let her into the room, then guided her over to sit on the red leather sofa. She felt the familiar twinge of anxiety whenever she let someone into her (sanctum) room, the worry that somehow her very presence had tainted it. That the miasma of Kur had somehow followed her here, chilling everything she touched with ice cold mist.

But Ritsuka always dispelled that fear with her warm eyes and cheerful grin. She sat upon the sofa as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and that gave Ereshkigal confidence that she had managed things after all. Furniture in dark woods and soft textures that was comfortable and tasteful, nothing like the excesses favoured by certain viragos. Grand as befitted a goddess, but welcoming too. So that people would want to visit her. So far Ritsuka did, and Mash as well, and she hoped that others would soon follow (but not that one, nevermind the golden chair tucked away in the far corner).

"I thought maybe you could help me with my nails?" asked Ritsuka, interrupting her thoughts. She held up the back of her hand and curled her fingers over, offering them for the goddess' inspection. "They've gotten pretty badly scuffed with all the sword training Artoria's making me do."

She saw Ereshkigal frown, and held up her hands appeasingly. "No, it's not like that! I asked her to train me, and I'm very grateful. It's just that sometimes I want to sit back and do girly things too, you know?"

"And you want to do them with me," said Ereshkigal, feeling both warmth and a bit of hesitation in her chest. Mostly warmth though, and that was progress, for not long ago her doubt would have swallowed all that whole and left her shaking.

"Sure!" chirped Ritsuka. "You enjoy it too." Her brows furrowed as she looked up, a touch of uncertainty falling over her face. "You'd tell me otherwise, right"

Ereshkigal was about to tell her that all such recreations were below a divine spirit such as herself, the necessary response of a self-respecting goddess, but it melted away before that earnest gaze. So instead she smiled as she sat across from the magus.

"I do. And of course I'll help you." She let her smile widen. "That's part of our contract too."

They both laughed as Ritsuka set her case on the table and began unpacking it, bringing out manicure tools and a dozen or so pots of polish in a variety of bright colours. Ereshkigal let herself bask in her Master's presence, watching her hands busy at work. Those same hands that had reached out for her, despite everything she had said and done. She should be satisfied, and she was sure she was. And yet… and yet…

(Just once, I'd like to sit like this with—)

She bit her lip in annoyance as she dispelled the stray thought. Fortunately Ritsuka seemed not to have noticed, for her eyes were fixed somewhere behind Ereshkigal. She looked up at her Master inquiringly.

"Ahh, sorry. I was just looking at your daisies."

Ereshkigal couldn't help but grin as she joined her in gazing at the blue pot of flowers on the side table. They were as much a comfort as the leopard toy, with their cheerful yellow centres and soft petals.

"Oh, those," she said carelessly, even though she knew Master wasn't fooled for a moment. "Mash gave them to me when you got back from that rayshift last week, and a goddess accepts all offerings."

"They're doing a lot better than the last batch," noted the magus.

Ereshkigal nodded uncomfortably, because Mash's plants had come with some unsolicited advice.You shouldn't water them everyday, Eresh, or the roots will get too wet and they'll rot. Mash's lavender eyes had softened as she pressed the pot into her hands. There's such a thing as too much care, and it can hurt the things you're trying to help.

She cleared her throat. "These are a more resilient kind, that's all."

Ritsuka nodded encouragingly as she lifted up a jar of pink polish. "I thought we might try gel nails today? They're still hard to get a hold of here, so I asked Paracelsus to try making me some."

Ereshkigal decided not to comment on the wisdom of trusting the alchemist's compounds. She had many doubts, but Master's cheerful trust was one of the things that endeared her to Servants and staff alike. And Ereshkigal could always tear the antidote out of Paracelsus' hide in the event of treachery.

She picked up one of the bottles, a stormy blue-gray the same colour as anzu feathers, and pushed away the ache again. "This looks the same as the other polish," she noted. "How are they different?"

"Gel is more resilient, and it's better for your natural nail. It's harder to put on by yourself though."

Ereshkigal looked dubiously at the assembled tools, including the odd device that looked for all the world like a hollow dome for the hand.

"That's the UV lamp," said Ritsuka, before taking pity on her. "Why don't I do yours first, so you can see how they go on? I've got a bunch of colours you can choose from."

"Then black, please." As soon as the words were out, Ereshkigal cursed herself. Stupid. A rainbow of colours, and you choose the gloomiest one. The one you're already wearing, no less!

But Ritsuka only nodded in approval as she reached for the correct jar. "Good idea, stick with the tried and true. And it really draws out the red in your eyes."

The eyes that marked her as unnatural, but Ritsuka didn't care. That brought a rush of gratitude, and with it a vague sense of unease. So she sat back against the padded leather of the sofa and looked aside.

"I can do this myself, you know," she said loftily. "I can modify my Saint Graph to make such a simple change in appearance any time I wish."

"Sure, but this is way more fun. Here."

The magus gently picked up Ereshkigal's hand gently, carefully handling the long fingers. Warm, thought Ereshkigal as the soft skin glided against hers, Master's hands are so warm. She had shied away from touch at first, the pulse of life overwhelming after her centuries among the cold and dead. Ritsuka had never complained, only gently and steadily coaxed her to try again. And although holding her hand now must have felt like ice, Master bore it with a smile. If Ereshkigal had not already pledged herself to this woman, she would have done so all over again for that simple touch.

Ritsuka turned her hand over and clicked her tongue. "The nails are already the perfect shape. I guess goddesses really are on a whole other level, huh? You and Ishtar both," she commented, apparently oblivious to the scowl spreading across her companion's face. "Then I guess we can go straight to painting."

She dipped the brush in the base coat and applied it to Ereshkigal's thumbnail in even, practiced strokes, humming to herself as she worked. No, forget your plague of a sister. She's occupied too much of your mind of late. She breathed in slowly, willing to herself to relax until some of the dense knot of stress slid undone. Just focus on Master, her patience, her warmth. She sighed in quiet pleasure as she offered each finger in turn, appreciating how gently Ritsuka handled them.

The magus was on the ring finger when she cleared her throat. "Is everything okay, Eresh? I haven't seen you outside your room for days now."

Ereshkigal bit her lip and looked away. "I apologize for worrying you, Master."

"It's fine," said Ritsuka reassuringly. "So long as you're alright. I can understand why you might need space."

"I simply needed time for my own affairs!" snapped the goddess, crimson eyes flashing. "It has nothing to do with Ishtar!"

"Of course," said the other smoothly. "Here, hold your hand under the lamp so the coat can cure."

Still huffing, Ereshkigal nevertheless did as she was bid, sliding her hand under the curious dome. To her surprise, a blue light clicked on, throwing its shade over her newly prepared nails.

"UV light makes it dry faster," said the magus, smiling fondly at her reaction. "I guess sunlight really is useful for all kinds of things."

It was still a wonder to Ereshkigal, how humans had managed to capture part of the sun in such a small artifact. Why couldn't she have done something similar, back when she still had souls to tend? But no, despite all her scrambling she had always failed to capture sunlight, and she had never ceased regretting—

(you take it to such an extreme that it makes you miserable)

-she ground her teeth and tried to force away the obnoxious voice, her other hand tensing in her lap. And again Ritsuka said nothing, only coaxed the painted hand out so she could apply the second coat of polish, as black as midnight.

Ereshkigal watched in sullen silence for long minutes, then huffed indignantly. "Of course, you could scarcely blame me if I were avoiding her. Which I'm not, because she does not merit that kind of attention."

"Right," nodded her Master.

"I simply hope that you do not let her behaviour colour your impression of me. While we may be two sides of the same power, it is as night and day."

"I understand."

Encouraged by Ritsuka's soft humming, Ereshkigal found herself sharing all the outrages she had suffered at Ishtar's hands since she had come to Chaldea. All of her sister's faults and infractions, laid out so convincingly that even their brother Utu wouldn't have hesitated to bring his divine justice down on her thick head. She did not mention that she herself had been trespassing during the most recent offense, but that hardly mattered. It was a mere drop before an abyssal ocean.

"Selfish! Flighty!" huffed Ereshkigal. "How can she call herself the Queen of Heaven, when she flits between her whims? And that whole business with the summer race …"

Ritsuka never interrupted, only made soft murmurs of acknowledgment as she kept applying the gel with patient brushstrokes. Part of Ereshkigal was afraid she might be imposing, but for once she decided to indulge herself. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone who would listen, not because she was terrified into doing but of her own free choice.

"...and then the dragons," she all but growled. "She must know how expensive Rayshifting is, but she doesn't care. Not as long as she can show off in front of Astraea—"

"The ones from the pocket singularity?" asked Ritsuka, her interjection so unexpected that Ereshkigal's litany died away.

She shrugged irritably. "Does it matter?"

"Well…" said the magus reluctantly, pausing her work to scratch awkwardly at the back of her head. "If it's the one I'm thinking of, then we… kind of asked her to?"

Ereshkigal stared.

"Okay, more like Da Vinci mentioned it needed to be done, and she volunteered herself and Astraea. Demanded they be sent, actually." She sighed. "But that's her way, she always needs to make it sound like it was her idea."

The goddess sat in silence for a moment, turning the information over in her head. "Alright," she finally conceded, "perhaps on this occasion. But she should still treat her Authority more seriously. The way she talked about managing Kur, like it was just another petty item on her list. Unbelievable." She looked over to her Master, her fist tightening despite the soft fingers brushing against hers. "She understands nothing about taking care of souls. Nothing about what they need, what hurts them. How can she stand there with that stupid smile and tell me she could just wing it? Like all my thinking about Kur's problems were…."

"A waste of time," said Ritsuka gently. Ereshkigal nodded stiffly, her hand tenser than ever. The magus gave up, letting go and putting the brush aside.

"She really is a useless goddess sometimes," said the magus with a shake of her head. "But this might be my fault, too. I should have known her pride would get in the way, and she'd fumble it."

She shrugged apologetically when Ereshkigal fixed her with a meaningfully raised eyebrow. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but… well, you're upset—"

"I'm not!"

"—and she never specified I shouldn't, so here goes." She fidgeted with one of the polish jars as she spoke, twisting the cap lightly in her hand. "Ishtar came to see me a little while back. We talked for a bit."

"You mean she boasted at you," scoffed the goddess.

"That's how she is," said Ritsuka with a suspiciously fond smile, and Ereshkigal determined that the girl really was too easy-going for her own good. "Anyway, after a bit of digging, it turned out she wanted advice about how to reconcile with you."

And yet again since coming to Chaldea, Ereskigal found herself blinking in astonishment. "That… you told her to do that?"

From the way Ritsuka was suddenly massaging her temples, she could guess a lot had been lost in translation. "I said she should talk to you when you were in a good mood, and… directly broach the painful stuff. Like lancing an abscess, kind of thing."

She shrugged awkwardly. "I gather things got pretty sore the first time Ishtar went down to the Underworld." Then she looked up curiously at Ereshkigal, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Were you really going to keep shrunk-down Ishtar in a cage?"

"She would have deserved it," said Ereshkigal. But inwardly, she gave a sigh of relief. At least Ishtar was holding to their unspoken agreement on the matter. Neither of us wants Master to know what her divine spirits did in our previous incarnations. Who we really are, and what we're capable of. Because she'd never look at us the same way again.

Ritsuka cleared her throat. "Anyway! I apologize. I should really have been more careful with my advice."

"Don't make excuses for her, Master," grumbled Ereshkigal. "She's had far too much of that done for her already."

They sat in silence for a bit, with the magus speedily finishing the top coat on the nails now that Ereshkigal had calmed enough to hold still again. Once she was done, the goddess had just enough time to admire the glossy crows-wing black before her hand went back under the lamp.

They waited for a while, with only the quiet electronic buzz of the machine to fill the silence. Eventually Ritsuka looked up at her again.

"Can I say something, Eresh?" she asked tentatively. "Something that might be a bit disrespectful to divinity?"

She grudgingly smiled back. "So long as you aim it somewhere deserved."

"Right," said Ritsuka, nodding with a hint of steel. "Then it seems to me that An was a pretty lousy father."

Ereshkigal found herself glaring at her, even though she had thought herself prepared. Hearing a mortal speak of divinity that way, even those she had some resentments against herself, still sent angry shivers along her spine.

The subtle widening of amber eyes told her that Master had noticed, but she plowed on anyway. "Most of all for sending you down to the Underworld without company or support. When we came to see you in Kur, I… it was beautiful, but it was cold." She unconsciously shuddered at the memory, and each tremble was a knife to Ereshkigal's heart. "And you were there for eons. Alone."

"Hush, Master." This time it was Ereshkigal who took her hand, running her thumb gently along her knuckles. "You brought me here, and for that I am very grateful. It is a beautiful journey we share, although it comes at the risk of humanity's fate. But know that you will succeed, for you have my favour. And whatever happens after, I will have these memories to warm me even in the darkest abyss."

The blush spreading on the magus' face was adorable. It was all she could do not to giggle, divine dignity or not. "I... thank you," murmured Ritsuka, before straightening in her seat. "But yeah, An. He was cruel to you, but he wasn't very good for Ishtar either."

"He spoiled her rotten," frowned Ereshkigal.

"Yes. And as a result, she's her own worst enemy." The magus brushed a hand through her hair as she sighed. "She never learnt empathy or tolerance, and she throws tantrums every time she doesn't get her way. Snatching everything she wants means she never treasures any of it, to the point she ends up tossing it away. Do you think it makes her happy?"

Ereshkigal scowled, anger seeping into her voice. "You're saying I should feel sorry for her?" she scoffed.

"I'm not saying that," Ritsuka defended herself. "You have every right to your feelings. I just..." She opened her mouth, then closed it again when the words wouldn't come. Her shoulders slumped. "I just hate seeing you unhappy."

Ereshkigal sighed impatiently, which the magus wisely took as her signal to disengage. A small beep from the lamp provided a welcome distraction. Ritsuka eased the hand out from under the lamp, grinning at the lustrous sheen of black nails.

"That looks great," she said, and the goddess couldn't help but nod in agreement. "Let's have the other one now." Ereshkigal was more than happy to offer it.

Ritsuka ended up choosing blue when her turn came around, and nothing more was said on the topic that evening.

Hassan pulled the straw away from under his ghost-mask with a satisfied sigh. "Ahhh yes, this is it. The perfect jellab, refreshing as it hits the tongue."

Ereshkigal looked at the deep red liquid swirling in his glass, raisins and pine nuts floating gently among the crushed ice at the top. The bright colour and fruity aroma practically called for a cocktail umbrella tucked in the glass, whispered the voice of her host.

"An unusual drink for an assassin," she smiled at him before raising her cup to her lips, savouring the delicate citrus flavour of her tea. "Shouldn't you be drinking bitter tears and darkness?"

"I could say the same to you," he said without rancour.

"Touché", she said, settling back into her seat with a sigh.

This was pleasant enough by any objective measure, and Ereshkigal knew she should be enjoying herself. She was rather fond of Cursed Arm, even if his founder would never let him fully acknowledge her divine authority. He understood fully what it was like to live and work in the shadows, but long for brighter things. The grotesque hand that served as his namesake would never let him forget it, however many black bandages he wrapped around it.

Still Ereshkigal tapped her foot under the table, feeling unaccountably restless. And that was frustrating, because so far everything was turning out exactly as she might have hoped. When she had emerged from her room the first night after Ritsuka's visit, she had dreaded running into Ishtar. Whatever Ritsuka had said, her anger still burned like a hot coal in her stomach, and the last thing she needed was to have it stoked anew.

But the first night had passed without the slightest trace of black twintails, and Ereshkigal had gradually relaxed into her usual routines. Parvati had been glad enough to see her, and the two goddesses had amiably argued the merits of spears and tridents well into the dawn.

The second night had similarly been undisturbed, leaving her free to share tea with the red archer. The blend had been excellent and the company pleasant, but she had found her relief oddly tainted by irritation.

Now it was the third night, and discontent was gnawing at her fingers. It wasn't very satisfying being aloof towards someone if they weren't even there to notice. More than that, it was downright vexing, especially since she couldn't exactly yank open Ishtar's door to tell her just how happy she was not to see her. That would rather defeat the point of the exercise.

She sighed. Was Chaldea ever this quiet, even at night? Ereshkigal usually found that silence soothing, but now it was somehow disquieting. It felt a little too much like the tomb.

A slurping noise brought her attention back to her companion, who was intently sucking up the last of his drink. He gave a low sigh of satisfaction, then rose from his seat with a dancer's grace. The monstrous fingers of his bandaged hand closed around the empty glass, before the more human ones motioned towards her saucer.

"Are you about done?" asked Hassan. "If you are, then I'll return these to the kitchen. We're running low on dishes these days, so that archer gets angry if you hold onto them for too long."

Not that EMIYA needed any excuse to be short with Hassan; while he had never deigned to explain his reasons, he had also never made any secret of his dislike for the Assassin.

"What happened?" asked Ereshkigal curiously. "Did someone let Lu Bu into the kitchens?"

"Hah, not quite that bad, or we'd all be eating from paper plates." Hassan shrugged his mismatched shoulders. "No, it's Enkidu and Ishtar, fighting like scorpions and spiders the last few days. There's only so much we can spare as projectiles, and we've already hit that limit twice over."

"I see," scowled the goddess, latching onto the offered anchor for her irritation. "Having fun at Chaldea's expense again, is she?"

"If that's your idea of fun," said Hassan with a shake of his head. "It looked more like a death match to me."

Ereshkigal sighed and finished her tea, the last of her good mood draining out with the remainder of her cup. "Thank you for the company," she told Hassan as she handed him the dish. "But now I must attend to business."

Like returning to my room so I can rearrange my daisies for the fifth time. At least the solitude would give her a bit of time to collect herself. And she still needed to think of a suitable gift for Master. One that in no way relied on any artifact owned by a certain annoyance.

Daisies, mused Ereshkigal as she walked towards her quarters. Maybe Master would like… no, what am I saying. Daisies are so common, they're practically weeds. What kind of gift is that for a goddess to grant? She bit her lip as the familiar door came closer. Now maybe if it was something rare and wondrous. Perhaps I could bargain with Gilgamesh for his herb of – no, no, that's not goddess-like either!

She was so distracted that she didn't notice the box until she almost tripped over it. Wrapped in cloth decorated in a blue-and-white wave pattern, it had been placed directly in front of her door. Ereshkigal hesitated before carefully picking it up and examining it more closely. Now that it was under her nose, she could smell something good wafting up from it-something warm and sweet, like baking bread.

An offering? They were rarely presented to her, and usually accompanied by pleas and tears. She discreetly looked up and down the corridor, but it seemed she was alone with her questions.

Perhaps it's from Jing Ke, or one of the other assassins. A token of appreciation for the queen of death. That explanation would have been far more convincing if she'd been holding a bottle of spirits, or a purse of gold coins. The box somehow did not feel like an offering presented to divinity. While obviously put together with care, it felt less grand, more low-key and personal. The sort of thing that (family) a friend might press on you on your way out the door.

Her curiosity piqued, she loosened the bow and tugged open the wrapping. The laquered box inside brought a distant voice to the forefront in her mind, telling her to expect rice and toppings. But when she eagerly lifted up the cover, she found barley bread baked in spices, dried dates, and a small block of creamy white cheese. Exactly the sort of thing she remembered watching enviously through her mirror down in Kur. Not just because her own mouth watered at the sight of them, but because she wished she could have shared them with the souls in her care.

Well, at least she could enjoy them now. Master really took advantage of her month living in Uruk, she thought fondly as she reached for the bread, to capture the look and feel so well.

The morsel was halfway to her lips before doubt seized her. Those spices, the ones filling her nose so richly she could practically taste them… cinnamon and ginger. But these herbs are imported from the north of the kingdom, realized Ereshkigal, so they would have been blocked from Uruk due to the Demonic Front. So Master wouldn't know to include them.

Suspicious, she roughly shoved the box down to the ground and picked up the wrapping cloth to give it a good sniff. And as she had expected, away from the strong food aromas, she could pick out the faintest hint of pomegranate blossoms.

Ishtar. Her hands fumbled with the cloth, let it drop. She watched it flutter to the floor, her stomach heaving. Some kind of trick, she thought to herself, it has to be. Because the butterfly was lodged in her throat, and she had to choke it back down. You've hoped for more from her before, and you've always been disappointed.

She looked down at the box again, with its torn bread and spilled dates scattered about it. As much as her fingers itched to reach for it, she forced them rigidly to her side. Accepting it would mean letting the ice around her heart thaw, even a little. It would mean exposing that heart, raw and freshly beating, to the pain of further betrayal.

She swallowed hard. It's just another whim of hers. She'll abandon me again soon enough. No, best to leave her heart safely frozen and the food untouched. It was the safest statement she could make. Let it stand, then, she told herself as she retreated back into her room.

In the winter of her mind, the butterfly's wings twitched and stirred.