Ereshkigal had been disappointed, but not surprised, to find nothing in front of her door the next evening.

"That's just like her," Ereshkigal acidly told her Master that night, watching from the other side of the sofa as Ritsuka tapped through brightly coloured icons on her phone."A narcissist like Ishtar never sticks to anything for very long. As soon as it ceases to amuse her, she drops everything and moves on, regardless of the damage she leaves behind."

She's already given up, she thought, and the sourness dripped back from her tongue to roil her stomach. Ereshkigal sighed, then leaned over to get a better look at her Master's screen. She could use a distraction from her acrid thoughts, and she was a bit curious as to what had so captured the magus' attention. She blinked when she found herself looking at a pixelated yet strangely familiar face of a young girl with a broad grin and sparkling white hair.

"God, this Magic Mari game has the most confusing selection systems," muttered Ritsuka as she swiped the character to one side. "What sadist designed this anyway?" She glanced to one side and sighed when she saw Ereshkigal's frown (certainly not a pout).

"Remind me, Eresh," she said gently, placing her phone to one side. "What did you tell Ishtar the last time you saw her?"

"That I never want to see her again," said Ereshkigal fiercely, her golden brows set in a glower.

"And what should someone do if they get such a request? Say, after they've left a gift and it gets turned away?"

"What?" The goddess paused, then shook her head. "No, she's just too lazy to keep trying. She gave up after a single day." She tossed her hair back before crossing her arms. "She should expect to grovel a bit. A goddess doesn't forgive easily, she taught me that herself!"

"So you want to forgive her," said Ritsuka carefully.

"Yes… no! I don't know," said Ereshkigal miserably. "Even after everything between us, she's still my other half. We sat on the moon and saw the world made together, when Anshar rose the land from the churning waters." She let her head sink, her hands twisting around the hem of her cloak. "But I don't want her to treat this lightly. I don't want to be brushed off as just another conquest or game."

"You're afraid she'll hurt you again."

She looked up sharply at her Master, the angry denial at the tip of her tongue, before her shoulders slumped. Because as embarrassing as it was, there was more truth there than she cared to admit.

"Look, Eresh," said Ritsuka quietly. "You've lived a lot longer than I have, and seen so much more. But when it comes to sticky emotional messes, maybe you might benefit from a mortal perspective." The magus gave her a lopsided smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Limited lifespan means we're forced to deal with these things sooner rather than later. We can't afford to put them on ice for centuries."

Ereshkigal smiled faintly. "I suppose it cannot hurt. After all, it was that same mortal stubbornness that allowed you to reach me."

"Ah hah, I guess so," said Ritsuka, scratching her neck. "You make it sound like such a big deal."

"It was," said the goddess in a tone of finality. She would not allow Ritsuka to understate her achievements, whatever the rules of modesty demanded. Making light of them was also making light of the Demonic Front, the people of Babylon, and all the comrades and foes they had encountered.

Amber eyes looked away from crimson red, but their owner's lips curled up in a shy smile. "Okay then. Thank you, Eresh."

"My pleasure," she said, and meant it. Sometimes it felt like getting through to her Master was harder than piercing a mountain, but that made such moments all the sweeter. "Then your advice please, Master. After all, it is your task to guide your Servants."

"Ahh, right!" said Ritsuka, still looking a bit flustered. "I was going to say, right now you're sort of sending Ishtar mixed messages. Just tell her exactly what you want from her." She gave a small chuckle. "You're a goddess, so you should be a natural at making demands."

Ereshkigal flushed in annoyance. "Hmph. I told you not to confuse me with her," she said, ignoring the way the magus' smile widened. Then more quietly, she said, "There's no use telling her what I want. She'll only use it to laugh in my face."

"Maybe," said Ritsuka softly as she reached for Eresh's hand again. Warm fingers played against hers, soothing the rising pressure in her chest. "I'm not going to lie, I'm asking you to step up to a chasm. And she could definitely shove you in while you're teetering there."

"This is not terribly persuasive, Master," murmured Ereshkigal, but she didn't let go.

"I know," said Ritsuka, and that dry smile was back. "But that gap can only be bridged by communication, even if it's painful. Staying far and aloof is much safer, but eventually she'll pull back too. Then you'll go back to staring at each other across the distance, and nothing will change."

There was a distant look in the magus' eyes, her mouth hardened into a tight line. Ahh, she has a chasm of her own, thought Ereshkigal sympathetically. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised. As amiable and adaptable as Ritsuka was—less charitable staff members derisively referred to her as "the chameleon" when they thought the Servants weren't listening—she was still human.

She gave the hand in hers a gentle squeeze, hoping to give her Master some comfort. That was what you were supposed to do in such situations, right? But maybe Ritsuka didn't crave touch as much as Ereshkigal did. Maybe she was overreaching—

Then the magus squeezed back, her fingers curling tightly around the goddess', and she could breathe again.

"That obvious, is it?" said Ritsuka eventually. The affected cheer in her voice did nothing to hide the tremor in her throat and shoulders.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Master," said Ereshkigal soothingly.

"Heh." The magus shook her head. "Thanks, but I guess I should talk about it." She hesitated, swinging her feet against the sofa, the soft thuds of her heels in time with the nervous beating of her heart. "Maybe it might help you."

"Master, you don't have to—"

"Did I ever tell you I had a brother?" said Ritsuka, choking out the words rapidly, as if she was worried they might stay caught in her mouth if she hesitated.

She snatched her phone back up and tapped icons on the screen with a speed that left Ereshkigal reeling. When she slid the device into the goddess' hands, there was a picture displayed. Two youths stood against blooming wisteria trees, the hanging purple flowers a colourful contrast to the severe navy of their school uniforms. The girl was certainly her Master, looking a little younger and infinitely more unsure of herself. Her smile was more a rigid quirk of lips than anything natural. In contrast, the young man at her side was freely grinning, his hands folded comfortably behind his head. Despite his dark hair and blue eyes, so unlike Ritsuka's, the similar rise of their cheekbones, the lines around their eyes and noses, immediately gave them away as siblings.

"That's my brother," confirmed Ritsuka in a subdued voice. "He was the smart one between the two of us." The unconscious wrinkling around her mouth as she said the word, the bitter ghost lurking in her emphasis, said loud and clear that smart was a stand-in for many things. "My parents never said anything, but they didn't have to. Everyone knew."

Ereshkigal shifted in discomfort as the magus tilted the phone back towards herself, amber eyes locked on the man's face. She felt as if she were intruding on something intensely private, regardless that her Master had invited her there. Part of her wanted nothing more than to excuse herself, and it was only the fear that might hurt the magus more that kept her rooted in her seat.

"Niisan was scouted by Chaldea as part of the second wave of Masters, did you know? They sent a car to come get him and everything." Ritsuka was trying for a steady matter-of-fact delivery, and missing by a quarter mile. The trembling was back in her voice, her words coming a little too quickly. "I made it by the skin of my teeth, and only because one of the chosen candidates fell ill." She laughed without humour. "I guess I proved them right when I slept through orientation, huh?"

The goddess swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say or do. But that didn't seem to matter, for Ritsuka wasn't fully in the room with her anymore. Her eyes reflected an entirely different Chaldea, one that had shattered long before Ereshkigal had ever taken step off the summoning platform.

"Then the… " Ritsuka took a deep shuddering breath. "The explosion happened. And then it was me after all. The one entrusted with the future of humankind." She shook her head ruefully.

Ereshkigal wanted to grab her face and force Ritsuka to look at her. To lecture her about all the wonderful things she had done, the journey she had walked and that Ereshkigal had finally, finally joined her in, and yell at her to never talk about herself that way again. The reprimands burned on her tongue.

Then what her Master had just said really sunk in, and her eyes widened. "Your brother died in that disaster?" She abruptly stood, crimson eyes bright. "I shall fetch his soul at once, in the finest cage! Wait right there, Master—"

"No!" shouted Ritsuka, tugging on the hem of Ereshkigal's dress before she remembered herself. She immediately let go, the apology in her eyes clearing to relief when the goddess merely looked back at her. "Thank you, but no," she continued after a moment. "Niisan wasn't one of the fatalities, thank god. He ended up in cryostasis, so he's okay."

He has to be. It hung unspoken in the air between them. And once again Ereshkigal held her tongue, for she had watched countless families say similar things while their loved one's soul descended to her realm; seen them cut their hands on equally bright shards of hope. And like those families, her stubborn Master would hold tightly to hope regardless of how it cut her. So the goddess only nodded when Ritsuka turned to look defiantly at her, arms crossed.

"The point is that Niisan and I… we didn't get along. At all. For a long time." She let out a small sigh as she ran a thumb over the wisteria trees in the picture, as if she could feel their soft blossoms across time and space. "But when he heard I was going to be joining him in Chaldea after all, he made sure to greet me at the arrival platform. We had… a long talk. About the way he spoke down to me. About the time I took a crowbar to his new bike."

"You what?" sputtered Ereshkigal, entirely unprepared for the mental image that assailed her. Ritsuka in a delinquent's leather coat and mask, swinging iron as she sauntered towards her brother's vehicle.

The magus must have noticed something in her expression, because she gave a short bark of laughter. "Not like whatever you're thinking! Still an ugly thing to do, though." She fidgeted with her phone, her fingers straying over the picture again.

"Things are still strained as hell," she said. "You can't wipe away five years of bad feelings with a bunch of words, however much you mean it. But it's getting better." She formed a fist and made herself smile. "And it'll keep getting better once he wakes up, too. If I could talk even literal goddesses down, then I'm sure I can manage a polite tea with my family, right?"

She smiled wryly at her companion. "Anyway, that story wasn't meant to push you towards anything, Eresh. I just wanted you to know where I was coming from, if I seem a bit too involved in your business here."

"Master…"

"You should do what you think is best. After all, you can't compare a mortal's troubles to those of divinity," said Ritsuka, with just the hint of a smirk.

"That—that's right," said Ereshkigal, puffing out her cheeks. "You're pretty smart for a human. So be grateful that I shall consider your words."

"Sure, sure," hummed the magus as she cheerfully touched her fingers to her forehead in a mock salute. And for all that Ereshkigal knew it to be an affectation for her benefit, Ritsuka did seem somehow more… not content, exactly, but relieved. As if an uncomfortable burden had been rebalanced on her shoulders, even if it could not be lifted.

"Hey," said Ritsuka after a moment, scratching her neck. "While I'm telling you stories about Niisan, want to hear about our sixth birthday party?"

The goddess perked up. "Yes please!" she said eagerly, before remembering herself. She put on a lofty expression. "I mean… this goddess will permit it."

"You two are more alike than you think," giggled Ritsuka into her sleeve.

"Come again?"

"Nothing, nothing!" She cleared her throat. "So dad was setting up to bake our cake, strawberry for me and chocolate for Niisan. Simple, right? But I'd fallen in love with the idea of a three tiered cake ever since Auntie's wedding, so I begged and begged—"

Ereshkigal nodded encouragingly, letting the bright words and brighter memories flow over her, the cheerful current of a bubbling brook in high summer. As much as she was enjoying herself, she felt a small stab of envy too, for if she tried to tell her own stories, they would fall like gray dust and bitter rain.

Is that still true? a small voice drifted up to her. So much has changed since Master brought you here. The Servants and the staff might not be the gods you longed for, or the mortals you sorrowed for, but they've already given you so much. She thought of bright flowers and midnight drinks, eager hands tugging at her sleeves. And it can change more, if you just keep reaching. Even if it doesn't work the first time, or the second, or even the hundredth time. As long as you live and interact with others, there is hope.

She smiled fondly at Ritsuka, who was blithely chattering away about collapsing pastries and angry mothers, oblivious to her companion's tangled feelings. Thank you, Master. Yet another gift I need to repay you for.

But for now, she simply let herself be the audience for Ritsuka's fond memories and small jokes. And that was enough.

Ereshkigal marched down to the cafeteria bright and early the next day, her red cloak billowing behind her and her step all confidence. She forced her eyes forward, ignoring the curious glances of staff members entirely unused to seeing her during daylight hours. She had a mission to accomplish.

She threw the doors open and surveyed the room, nodding only vaguely at EMIYA's silent question before spotting her quarry. Ishtar was seated across from Astraea, poking her spoon moodily at a fruit parfait. The Ruler's own slice of coffee cake seemed forgotten entirely as she weaved an account of her latest exploits in the wrestling ring.

"Ohohoho!" she laughed merrily, one elegant hand raised in front of her mouth. "You should have seen the look on that Penthesilia's face! Even the brawniest of barbarians cannot withstand my suplex!"

Ishtar's smile was admiring, if also rather grudging. "Tch, you never do pass up an opportunity to show it off."

"Mmm, if only you had been there to see it. How sad that you don't come to the sparring halls anymore, love. I do so miss our little engagements." Astraea leaned forward, her impressive curls tumbling over her shoulders and down into her cleavage. She smiled in satisfaction as Ishtar's eyes followed them and lingered there. "Well. If you're conceding my mastery in the ring, perhaps I shall claim my spoils in the bedroom, fufu."

"Hah! Not a chance." Ishtar tore her gaze up, the better to glare at the other over the parfait's glazed oranges and kiwis. "I just haven't been in the m—"

Her eyes widened when she finally spotted Ereshkigal approaching the table. The underworld goddess felt a momentary thrill when she saw Ishtar's grip tighten around her spoon before she forced a strained smile to her lips. There was a certain sense of power in drawing such a reaction from beneath her sister's usual shield of arrogance.

Stop it, she told herself sternly. She was distantly aware that Astraea was watching too now, sweeping her eyes over her in silent appraisal. It was a bit worrisome, given all that had recently passed between herself and the star-daughter's lover, but she couldn't afford to worry about it now. She needed to focus on what she meant to convey to Ishtar. We've both treated this as a power struggle for so long. We need to learn a new language if we ever want things to change between us.

It didn't stop her from looming over the table, shoulders proud and her gaze fixed imperiously upon her fidgeting sister. She wasn't ready to shed her armor entirely, whatever her hopes about what might come next.

"Grapes," she said at last.

She met Ishtar's raised eyebrow with a cough and an involuntary shuffle of her feet. "I would prefer grapes to dates," she explained, forcing herself to maintain eye contact despite her sudden embarrassment. "I may be fond of wine offerings, but I also enjoy fresh fruit."

For a long time there was no answer as Ishtar stared back at her, eyes wide and mouth half-open. Ereshkigal braced herself, increasingly sure that her (suggestion? demand?) would be greeted with mockery, or perhaps indignation, once her sister had recovered from her surprise.

Then Astraea laughed, a rich golden chuckle that easily flooded out the awkward silence. Ishtar immediately snapped her gaze towards her, an unmistakable pout on her lips.

"Don't you dare say it!" she growled.

The star-daughter merely waved airily in response, earning an angry huff before Ishtar turned back to face Ereshkigal.

"It wasn't an offering, okay?" she said fiercely, an effort that might have succeeded if not for the colour rising in her face. "I had extra, that's all."

"Which is why you demolished half of the kitchen chasing off that Jaguar Man," said Astraea, her light tone entirely at odds with the meaningful look she directed Ereshkigal's way.

"That beast would have eaten everything!" yelled Ishtar, slamming her palms on the table. "Educator or not, she's a bottomless pit. I would have had none left for—"

She caught herself, her expression darkening when she caught sight of the little smile Ereshkigal had not quite been able to suppress. "This is really pissing me off," said Ishtar, before trying again. "Don't misunderstand. A goddess never apologizes."

"Except when she gives out what are clearly apology gifts," said Astraea in amusement, her smirk only widening when Ishtar glared daggers at her. "Don't frown so. I cannot help myself when you insist on heaping such obvious falsehoods before my scales. Be honest for once, love."

"Nobody asked you, you meddler!" hissed Ishtar.

"Meddling entirely for your own good," said Astraea with an air of long-suffering patience. "You do need a firm hand."

"A firm hand, is it?" Ishtar's tone lowered dangerously. "Maybe we should be taking this to the sparring room after all." Her pout had given way to a ferocious grin, blue sparks of energy dancing along her fingertips.

"Excellent," said Astraea with an approving nod. "Then without further delay—"

Under Ereshkigal's dumbfounded gaze, she rose from her seat and pounced upon Ishtar, strong arms locking mercilessly around her waist in a wrestler's hold. A short scuffle later, she had a triumphant smirk on her face and a struggling goddess over her shoulder.

"Let me go, you harpy!" yelled Ishtar, pounding her fists ineffectually into the tangle of blonde curls. "I'll gandr you so hard you'll be seeing your precious stars up-close for weeks! Put me down!"

Astraea merely laughed before turning to Ereshkigal, her golden eyes bright. "My thanks to you," she said, inclining her head.

"Ahh... you're welcome?" said Ereshkigal, not entirely sure what she had done to earn this proud goddess' gratitude. Still, it was a far sight more positive than the vindictive ice she had expected.

The Ruler's smile was downright sunny as she turned for the door. "Then if you'll excuse us—"

"You impossible woman—!"

Ereshkigal suppressed a smile of her own as she watched the Ruler swiftly carry her squawking sister out into the corridor. It was a very odd relationship, to say the least—the words they shared seemed equally soaked in honey and venom, not to mention their proclivity for exchanging blows as readily as endearments. It was nothing like Ishtar's past fancies, which always burned hot before descending into the iciest of chills.

Somehow this seemed healthier, even if it was too tempestuous for Ereshkigal's own tastes. And she couldn't deny that it gave strength to the fluttering bird in her chest. Because if she can break her patterns this far for someone, maybe she really will do the same for me.

That was a dangerous thought, the kind she should really know better than to allow herself. She'd had similar hopes in the past when other deities had descended the forgotten stairways into the underworld, and been disappointed each time. Enlil, Nergal in all his infuriating bluster, and of course—and most relevantly—Ishtar herself.

This is just a test, she reminded herself as she grabbed an apple from the counter before heading out herself. You don't have to invest too much in this. Just see how she does over the next few days, whether this has any staying power. You don't need to let yourself hope.

The brush of wings against her heart, exciting and uncomfortable in equal parts, told her it was already too late for that. The ice had already melted, leaving her exposed and shivering. When she closed her eyes, she found herself once again seated on the onyx throne of Kur, waiting with bated breath for her sister to approach the first gate.

Things will be different this time, she told herself, her lips tightening as a remnant of underworld frost curled in her breast. They had better be, for her sake. If she betrays you again, you have ways of punishing her for it.

She thought of black chains swaying from stone pillars, and shuddered.

No. She forced herself to take deep breaths against the nausea welling up in her stomach, all the worse because it was accompanied by a vicious twist of pride. She won't, because things are different here. We are different here.

She forced herself to take a bite of her apple as she walked, choking the morsel down the tightness in her throat. The honeyed taste seemed fainter than usual, but it still melted on her tongue. She could take some comfort in that.

Even if Ishtar does screw things up again, I don't have to lash out. She nodded to herself as some of the steel wire loosened from her shoulders, letting her walk more lightly on the tiled floors of Chaldea. I'll handle it like Master would. I'll make her proud of me.

She felt pride welling up inside her again, but this time she leaned into it. It was a yellow rose in her hands, open to face the sun, and entirely different from the serrated ice from which she had long formed her crown.

Perhaps she would spend a little more time with her daisies, after all.

Ereshkigal's breath hitched when she looked out her door the next day, and found the box sitting on the ground in front of her. The wrapping cloth was a deep red this time, patterned in dragonflies.

She almost expected it to fade to mist as soon as she touched it, but it stayed comfortingly solid in her hands as she brought in inside. She set it on her table, next to the stuffed leopard, and stared at it for a long moment.

It will be alright, she told herself through her racing heartbeat. Even if she disappoints me, I will manage. I will be the goddess that Master believes me to be. That didn't stop the sigh from shuddering its way through her. Still, I'd like to believe…

Her hands trembled as she unfastened the cloth and cautiously removed the box's lid. A bunch of grapes was nestled inside between the bread and sunflower seeds, each one a perfect miniature globe of green.

When she popped one into her mouth, she thought she had never tasted anything sweeter.

Author's note: Are all my notes recommendations for other stories these days? It feels like it, but I really have no regrets recommending quality work, especially when it involves Ereshkigal. nd7878 wrote an excellent Ereshkigal and Olga story called "Afterlife" that captures both characters with perfect pitch, enough to make me slam my keyboard with envy. If you haven't checked it out, I would encourage you to do so.

As always, thank you for reading!