Sigurd had a pounding headache. Reaching up, he pushed up his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. The headache was accompanied by an odd, stretched feeling that was very familiar. He'd felt exactly the same way when Bryn had been teaching him the ways of the runes.

"Oh, are you feeling well? I'm sorry!" Esme asked anxiously and Sigurd lowered his hand before smiling at her reassuringly.

"I'm fine but we should take a break, princess," Sigurd said easily, adjusting his glasses with one hand. "There's only so much math a man can take." Although his tolerance was incredibly high. At one time, he'd wanted Brynhildr to teach a hand-picked group of men the runes. Sigurd had quickly given up when he realized very few of the men could comprehend and the ones that could didn't have the fortitude. "I do wonder at this modern era," Sigurd murmured to himself. From what the Grail told him, Esme's numbers were not unique. Had the spreading of humanity improved their brains? Or was it just when you had billions to pick from, it was likely you'd find quite a few who could do it?

"Um… if you don't mind, we could take a bath together," Esme muttered, looking away and fiddling with her hair. Sigurd stared, wondering if she was serious. "I… I have a swimsuit… it almost fits…" Almost fits? That was interesting. Sigurd could easily stop himself from showing any reaction, but he could feel the heat in his cheeks. "And you can – can be naked – under the water…?"

"That's not needed, I have underthings beneath my trousers." And this idea was getting better and better the more he thought about it. Sigurd knew they were both skating close to the edge but he desperately wanted a bath and the thought of having a pretty woman with him, actually sharing the water… oh, he wanted it. "Yes, let's do that." Esme looked at him with wide eyes but then smiled. It was the brilliant smile he found so enchanting.

"Oh, I'll go get the swimsuit! Meet me there!" She darted out of the room and Sigurd couldn't help but smile. Ah, his princess was so sweet.

Sigurd quickly headed up the stairs to the bathing floor. In addition to the deep tub, there was a sauna and rooms with special, heated stone recliners meant for relaxation. That was all appealing but the bath was best of all and he allowed his armor and clothing to disappear as soon as he stepped inside, except the underthings. Sigurd's glasses immediately fogged up and he took them off, setting them safely out of the way. Settling into the water, he prepared himself to wait.

When Esme arrived, Sigurd understood what she meant by almost fits. He could tell from a single look that her swimsuit had been a one-piece at one time, before being cut in two and inexpertly hemmed. But that had been needed, because the original once piece had been far too small. The remaining fabric was tight even for a stretchy swimsuit, looking like a second skin. The top portion pressed Esme's breasts up and they gave the impression they might pop out at any moment. Sigurd hurriedly buried the image that came to mind. In color, the swimsuit was violet with little frills of pink.

"How old were you when you last used that?" Sigurd had to ask and Esme blushed as she stepped into the bath.

"Um, fourteen." Not bad although she'd clearly grown quite a bit since then. "That was when I went to the beach with my parents and my brother." …Brother?

"You have a brother?" Sigurd asked curiously. She hadn't mentioned that. Esme nodded, sinking into the water up to her neck, which was something of a disappointment but also a good idea. Sigurd did the same, feeling the heat already soothing his head.

"Yes, he's older," Esme said quietly, looking away and Sigurd frowned. While this conversation was paining her, he could see that, this was also something he needed to know.

"Is he the inheritor of the family Mage Crest?" Sigurd asked carefully and Esme nodded, her expression downcast as she looked at the water. "I see." Sigurd had already guessed she had a sibling, truthfully. It made no sense to keep the heir cooped up in this tower. But a younger child who was meant to be nothing but a bargaining chip…

"He said it was just as well I was here since I'd never find a husband anyway with the numbers," Esme said almost inaudibly and Sigurd froze with rage. Closing his eyes for a moment he controlled the feeling before moving to Esme's side.

"Princess," Sigurd murmured as he gently caught her cheek, lifting her face so she was looking at him. "Any man who can't bear a woman being smarter than him is not worth your time." His hand was wet, dampening her soft skin. Yet, that trickle of liquid from her eyes was not from the bath. Sigurd gently wiped it away with his thumb as Esme sniffed.

"I know my numbers are boring… I just want someone who doesn't mind," Esme said and Sigurd closed his eyes for a moment. Who had told her that about her numbers? Although it was math, it wasn't meant to be a dance… "Sigurd, don't be sad. Now I have you." Sigurd opened his eyes to see her gentle smile. Warm arms went around him and Sigurd was suddenly acutely aware of Esme's body, pressed up against his bare chest with just a thin piece of cloth between them. He manfully ignored that as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Yes, princess. I will always be here," Sigurd murmured before gently pulling away and settling back into the water. "And your numbers might give me a headache but they certainly don't bore me." Esme giggled softly before smiling. It warmed her soft brown eyes and Sigurd felt a warmth in his chest at her happiness.

"Oh, I meant to ask. Would you like another neck rub?" Oh, what a heavenly thought! Sigurd nodded and turned around, settling beside her and feeling her warm hands, taking his tension away. Ah, why was human contact suddenly so pleasant? It wasn't just Esme, even touching Archer had felt… warming. Perhaps it has something to do with my summoning? If he tried, Sigurd could remember the barrenness that had been his childhood. Nothing but himself and irascible old dwarf for company. At least he'd spent a lot of time playing in the woods like Esme had spent in the roots…

Whatever the reason for it, though, Sigurd could not deny the pleasure it brought him. He let her soothe him until the headache was all but gone before pulling away.

"Would you like me to return the favor, Esme?" Sigurd asked, gently maneuvering her so she was in front of him before he rested a hand on the back of her neck. As he did, he noticed how large his hand was against her neck. She was so small, his princess, so delicate, like a beautiful flower growing in the dark.

"No one's ever done that for me…" Esme murmured and Sigurd could hear her interest. "If you want to." Sigurd smiled as he gently began to rub her neck and shoulders. This was familiar, Brynhildr had done this for him and taught him how to reciprocate. Such things were common among the Valkyries. The runes could give even them headaches.

As he massaged her, though, Sigurd became aware of how nice Esme's rump felt, seated neatly in his lap. She was too thin but she wasn't bony there… He tried hard to ignore it but soon realized it wasn't working. Sigurd closed his eyes for a moment and imagined the most unpleasant thing he could – butchering a wild hog in the winter – and was relieved when it worked. Then Esme shifted, which almost undid his efforts.

"That was strange, your lap felt lumpy for a moment," Esme said and Sigurd had to lock his jaw to stop a laugh. Lumpy! "I must have imagined it."

"Mmm hmm," Sigurd hummed, highly amused as he continued with his massage. 'Lumpy', heh… that was one area where Esme and Brynhildr differed. Bryn had been a virgin when Sigurd had rescued her from her wall of flame but she'd also been a Valkyrie, accustomed to uncouth gods and even more uncouth men, in the drinking halls of Valhalla. She would have known immediately what that 'lump' was. Sigurd was glad Esme was more innocent. "Is that feeling better, princess?" Perhaps it was wise to not let that happen again though. Esme might start to realize if the 'lump' recurred.

"Yes, thank you." She moved off his lap before settling in the water again and turning to give him a sweet smile. "After we're done here, should we spend some time in the chairs?" That was lovely but…

"We must be close to lunch. Also, we have to check up on Archer and his Master," Sigurd said thoughtfully. Archer had to be close to recovered by now, it'd be tomorrow at the latest. Esme looked a bit downcast but nodded.

"You're right, we have to get back to work," Esme murmured and Sigurd nodded seriously, his pleasure at the bath fading as he contemplated it. Caster and… Lancer… were the only two remaining obstacles. Well, unless you counted Archer but he was an ally for now. "Archer's Master gave me all the information he collected from the ley lines. Along with what you found, I think I know where Caster is." Ah, really? Excellent! "It's a powerful ley line just out of town in the woods… there are probably traps but it's still almost ideal."

"Yes indeed," Sigurd said warmly, contemplating it. The one thing he hated above all else was confrontations in a populated area. That was one reason he'd been so accepting of assassinating Rider's Master. That damned Rider hadn't seemed to give a flying fuck about civilian casualties as long as his Master could cover it up. Sigurd truly did care… the most abominable part of war to him had always been the accidental victims. If Caster was making a base outside the city he could avoid all that. Esme nodded.

"We should use Archer to find the traps," Esme murmured and Sigurd nodded. That'd be right up his ally. "But many of them will have magic. I think you should go together." Hm. Sigurd didn't disagree precisely but he knew he'd have to watch out for an arrow in his back. Although, if Archer could snipe Lancer that would… that would…

"I want to fight Lancer myself," Sigurd said, aware he was being an idiot. But he couldn't bear the thought of his beloved Brynhildr dying to Archer's poisoned arrows. Esme gazed at him solemnly, still up to her neck in the bath water.

"Do you think you can?" That quiet question hit him in the heart and Sigurd shuddered, looking down at the water. Can I kill my beloved Brynhildr? She could kill him, he knew that, but could he do the same? Then a gentle hand was touching his face. "Oh Sigurd I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

"No, it needs to be said," Sigurd said, composing himself. "I will kill her because I must." Even as he said the words, though, doubt touched his heart. Can I really do it? But he had to, for his beloved princess. Esme gazed at him worriedly but then nodded.

"We should get ready for lunch," she said before standing. Water slid down her body and Sigurd almost hated himself for noticing how it accentuated her legs and made her breasts gleam. Brynhildr, I am a faithless excuse for a man. "Sigurd, please, stop feeling so sad. I know you'll do your best." Sigurd sighed to himself. His sweet, innocent princess couldn't understand what was going through his mind.

"It's fine, truly," Sigurd reassured her before standing. Caught up in his inner misery, he completely missed the arrested look on Esme's face as the water dripped off his body. Sigurd climbed out of the pool, feet slipping a little on the wet tiles. He heard Esme following and then a soft yelp? Glancing over he saw she'd slipped a bit more severely and was pulling herself up.

"I hate these tiles," Esme grumbled and Sigurd smiled as he pulled a fluffy towel out of a built in cubby and began to dry himself.

"They're the one design flaw this place has," Sigurd remarked and Esme nodded with a sigh as she got her own towel. Whoever had picked the tiles had picked them for beauty, not function. They were truly beautiful, white tiles with individual gold designs that meshed into a seamless whole… yet they were terribly slippery to wet feet and there was no mat. An awful oversight. "At least it's alright if you're careful."

"It would be funny if I cracked my head and died and my family suddenly didn't have my numbers anymore," Esme muttered and Sigurd reached over to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze. She looked at him with a small smile as she tossed her towel into the bin. "I'll go change and meet you in the dining room?"

"Yes, please," Sigurd said and Esme nodded before heading out. Sigurd finished drying himself off before manifesting his clothes and armor. Stepping outside, he re-donned his glasses. Then he walked slowly down the stairs, still feeling lost in a miasma of guilt and remorse. Ah, he'd treated Bryn so badly. He hadn't meant to and he'd honestly been trying to make everything right for everyone but that didn't make anything better. In fact, it made things worse.

Sigurd made his way to the dining room and stared blankly at the table, feeling no desire to sit. Instead he rested his hand on the dark wood, thinking of the past. Ah, Gudrun, you dark, devious woman. I did love you. That was the true tragedy of his story, Sigurd thought. Gudrun had tricked him into drinking the wine to forget his Brynhildr, because she'd desired him more than all things. And god help him, he'd loved her in return, in his perfect forgetfulness of his beautiful Valkyrie. They were both such wonderful women. Very different from each other, yet glorious in their own ways.

Warm arms went around his chest and Sigurd started, recalled to the present.

"Oh Sigurd. I want to help you but I don't think I can," Esme murmured and Sigurd swallowed before resting a hand on her wrist. So tiny and fragile in his large hand. "Are you thinking of the past?"

"I…" How to answer that? Well, it would hardly be believable if he denied it. "Yes, I am," Sigurd admitted, still staring at the table. "I am a terrible, faithless excuse for a man," Sigurd murmured, feeling it with all of his heart. "How could I have loved two women? How could I have wronged my Brynhildr so terribly? Why did I think it was right for her to wed another man? Why did I assist in it?" Because… because the alternative would have been war… yet… "I ripped her heart from her chest as surely as if I'd done it with my two hands." So cruel, so cruel.

"Oh Sigurd." Warm arms squeezed him as Sigurd closed his eyes, swallowing heavily. "You were just doing the best you could. Please, don't be so sad." Comfort seemed to radiate from her and Sigurd's morose heart tried to reject it, but it was worming its way in. Gradually, he felt his mood beginning to lighten. "You were cursed and tricked and bespelled. Please, don't blame just yourself." …Yes, Gudrun did have to take a good share of the blame. And the curse of Andvari, and the curses Brynhildr had bourn.

"It's true, we were likely doomed from the very beginning," Sigurd murmured, feeling the anguish of it. And yet. "The world needs tragic heroes." It was cruel to them, perhaps, but those were the stories that lasted. And even in this modern time, humanity needed those stories, like a light against the dark. The thought gave him a kind of peace and Sigurd breathed a long, shuddering sigh before gently patting Esme's hand. "I'm better now princess. Why don't we have lunch?" She let him go with a smile and Sigurd noticed she had changed into a pretty red dress. She walked around the table as Sigurd took a seat, expecting the dishes to waft in.

And nothing happened.

"Oh no, did we miss it?" Esme pulled out her pocketwatch as Sigurd stiffened, feeling sharp disgust, not at himself but at her accursed family! "Oh no, we did, by five minutes." Five damned minutes. Why in HELL hadn't they made the mealtimes a window instead of a set time? "Oh well, it's fine, I don't need lunch anyway." Esme's smile was brilliant and Sigurd had no doubt she meant it. She was well accustomed to skipping meals but…

"No, I won't let that stand," Sigurd said firmly as he stood. "I'll go to the town right now and fetch you some food." His princess would not be skipping meals because he was too much of an idiot to sit down when he got into the room. And then he'd distracted her! Esme stared, startled by his vehemence.

"Oh but Sigurd what about Caster? And we don't have any money!" He didn't care.

"Caster won't try anything in broad daylight and I'll use my cloak to steal something. Just you wait princess, I'll be right back," Sigurd promised before taking spiritual form. He ignored Esme's protest as he quickly left the tower, heading for the town to accomplish his task. As he did, Sigurd pondered what kind of food to fetch for her. Something easy and portable… ah, he'd filch some kabobs, those would be perfect and the meat would do his princess good. As he carefully attended to theft, Sigurd realized that his mood was much improved.

Taking care of his princess always made him feel better.