Author's Note: Credit to my co-author Pallan Minerva, who gave me the honor of posting.


The lights were on at the Emiya house.

Shirou couldn't help but breathe a little sigh of mixed relief and apprehension as his strides ate up the road. Ever since Illya and Chloe had gone missing, his parents and the family maids had spent every evening either scouring around town or holed up in the old man's office, pouring over books and charts they wouldn't let him see.

Don't worry, Shirou, we'll find her. Just focus on your studies and leave everything to your father and I.

Not a chance. Not when he looked every morning to see their empty seats at the table, then went to school without seeing them off on his way. He would return to an empty house and turn the television on to the magical girl shows that Illya loved and Chloe unfailingly mocked, as if the flickering screen might summon them to the sofa.

The bricks were rough against his hand as he sped along the wall towards his front door. The lights were on in the living room, which meant something had changed. Had they found his sisters? Maybe they had, and they were in the hospital or—

No, Shirou. Don't be stupid, then they'd be over there visiting, right?

His gut still churned as he slid the key into the lock, only to find it already open. He took a steadying breath as he walked in, then sagged in relief when a familiar sweet voice met his ears.

A voice that was almost shouting. His shoulders tightened on instinct as he slid off his shoes.

"Why don't you understand? There was no time for a note or anything!" Illya sounded on the verge of tears. "I had to save Miyu!"

"Of course we understand, honey." Their mother's normally cheerful tone was strained. "That's why you're not grounded."

"I'm not so sure about that." That was the old man.

"Hush, dear." A small shuffle of feet on the carpet, then a long sigh. "We're just glad you're both home safe. And your friend here too, of course."

"Not a friend," growled Chloe. "This is another one of Illya's stupid ideas."

Shirou leaned against the wall, breathing as softly as he could. Eavesdropping was wrong, but he didn't want to interrupt a fight, either. Not until he understood what was going on, lest he trip up and make it worse.

"Chloe! I couldn't just leave her there!"

"Yeah, actually, you could. Or at least stick her on Rin, isn't she supposed to be your handler?"

"I asked! But she said it was my decision, so I had to take responsibility—"

"She just said that because she's cheap!"

"You can come in now, Shirou." The old man's steady tone cut off the girls' budding argument and made his breath hitch. "You might as well meet our guest."

An abrupt silence fell over the room. It made Shirou hesitate a beat before he turned the corner and walked in.

Relief washed over him at the sight of Illya and Chloe standing beside each other, postures tense. Their eyes brightened when they saw him, but they also looked more than a little nervous.

He would worry about that later. For now he launched himself forward to sweep them both up in a tight hug, crushing them to his chest. Their warm bodies finally let his anxious mind rest, and it was all he could do not to... he didn't know. It didn't matter.

His sisters were home.

"Oniichan, not so tight!" sputtered Illya before wrapping her arms around him in turn.

"There, there." Chloe wriggled a little loose of his grasp and patted him on the head. "It's okay, it's okay. You don't have to worry anymore."

Where were you? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?

"Thank god…" Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. He didn't bother to wipe them away, only tightening his hug. "I was so worried… I looked everywhere for you, but no one knew anything."

Except apparently his parents, but that was another thing to tackle later. Anger could wait until his sisters were safely in bed.

"Okay, enough with the sappiness already." Chloe lightly pushed his chest. "You're embarrassing me in front of Goldilocks."

Shirou blinked as he reluctantly released them. "Goldilocks? What do you mean?"

His fiercer sister pointed an accusing finger at the armchair across from them. Shirou followed it to see a tall blonde woman sitting with her arms folded in her lap. Her white dress seemed badly fitted, the sleeves too short and the chest a little too—

Urgh, no. Don't look there. Instead he made a point of looking at her eyes, only to find them staring down at her feet.

"Uh, hello?" He raised his hand in a polite wave.

"Greetings." Her high alto was polite but lacking all color, like a recorded message on an answering machine. She still didn't look at him.

Another awkward silence reigned, then their mother cleared her throat.

"Why don't we introduce ourselves?" she said with a smile that seemed a little too bright. "I'm Irisviel Emiya. This is my husband, Kiritsugu—" A small nod. "Our son, Shirou."

He smiled at the blonde, feeling like a bit of a dork when her gaze stayed planted firmly down.

"And you've met our daughters Illya and Chloe, of course."

The woman gave the tiniest fraction of a nod. "My name is Angelica."

Their mother smiled encouragingly, then her brows crinkled a little when nothing more seemed forthcoming. "And your last name, miss?"

A very, very long pause. Shirou would have thought the woman had frozen if not for the barest hint of a shiver showing in her hands. "Such things are not granted…"

"Ainsworth!" Illya crossed over and placed a hand on the woman's tensed shoulders. "This is Angelica Ainsworth. She's happy to meet you."

I hope went unspoken in the nervous slant of her mouth.

Their mother's smile and nod forestalled another awkward silence. "She's welcome to stay with us as long as she needs to."

"I do not wish to impose."

"No, no. I insist."

The soft red of her eyes suddenly seemed as sharp as a kitchen knife. For a moment, he had trouble recognizing the gentle woman who had tucked his younger self into bed every night.

Angelica bowed so low that it might have been mockery if not for the blankness behind her eyes. "Then I will gratefully accept."

"I still don't like it," huffed Chloe from the corner, arms crossed.

The old man gave a little sigh. "Better here where we can keep an eye on her."

"It's decided then, you're staying with us! Isn't that great, Angelica?" Illya gave the girl her brightest smile. It crashed against the stone of the other's flat demeanor.

At least it's not just me.

Shirou wasn't sure that was a good thing. While the woman didn't look unhappy, exactly, she didn't look pleased to be here either. She looked…

Hollow. Like your father did those nights, when you snuck out of bed and saw him smoking on the porch.

But that didn't make sense. She was pretty and polite and didn't look that much older than him. What could have happened to give her the old man's eyes?

"Then Sella, if you'd show Miss Ainsworth to the guest room so she can settle in?"

"Yes, madam."

The elder maid's tone was unusually formal as she bowed stiffly to the blonde before leading her down the hallway. The sound of footsteps going up the staircase echoed in the suddenly quiet room.

"Well!" said their mother after a moment. "I think that's been quite enough excitement for one night. Illya, Chloe…" She looked at his sisters for a long moment, then puffed out a breath. "We'll talk more tomorrow. For now, please wash up and get to bed. You must both be exhausted."

"Mom…" Illya's mouth twisted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I didn't want…"

"Shh, honey, shh." Graceful arms enveloped her in a hug, then waved towards Chloe to join in. "Tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay."

"Yeah."

A warmth settled in Shirou's chest as he watched them, increasing when his mother gestured for him to come too. He willingly wrapped his arms around his sisters, then hid a smile when an insistent click of his mother's tongue brought the old man's hand on his shoulder. His father's shoulders were stiff at first, then slowly relaxed as he let himself fully embrace his family.

Even with questions still piled up in his throat, Shirou let himself savor this moment. After weeks of staying up late watching the street outside, hoping against hope, his family was together again. Together and safe, in the familiar comfort of the living room.

It lasted only a minute before Chloe broke away and loudly declared she got the bath first, her right as eldest sister. A sputtering Illya chased her out into the hallway, a sight that pulled sighs of fond exasperation from their parents.

Shirou waited until the thumping had died down, then turned to his mother. "Hey, where have they been? Is everything alright? I—"

"Shirou." She looked almost apologetic as she rose and dusted off her skirt. "They're home safe. That's good enough, isn't it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah… yeah, of course."

"You're a good boy." This time, her smile touched her eyes. "Your father and I may still be busy over the next little while."

"So you'll need to keep an eye on the house," grunted the old man, fingers itching the way they always did when he wanted a smoke but wouldn't allow himself one. "Especially that girl."

Something was definitely up, and they just as definitely weren't going to tell him a thing.

"Will she be staying with us for a while, then?" The question came out a little sharper than he'd intended, but he let it stand for all the unspoken ones still burning inside. The tension around his parents' eyes told him the message had been received, loud and clear.

Silence fell on them again. Then his mother's hands folded together in her lap. "I'm not sure. We'll need to see how things develop."

What things?

But there was no point in asking it aloud. Their expressions said it all.

He suppressed a sigh. "Alright. I'll go make lunches for tomorrow, then."

"Thank you."

His fists tightened, then relaxed as he walked towards the kitchen.

Shirou wasn't as blind as his family seemed to assume sometimes. He knew there was a darkness in his parents' past. The tension in his father's shoulders whenever the doorbell rang unexpectedly gave it away, as did the hard look in his mother's eyes when her gaze strayed west, towards the mountain.

He'd known his sisters kept things from him too, judging from the way they sometimes abruptly fell silent when he walked by, as if he'd caught them one hand in the cookie jar. Even before they'd gone missing, the cautious looks they'd shoot him under hurried platitudes seemed far too intense for girls keeping simple if embarrassing secrets from their older brother.

He'd tried asking a few times, small questions and comments to coax out whatever might be worrying them. Each time he'd been politely but firmly rebuffed, until he'd learned to offer a hug and a sympathetic ear instead.

So he smiled when they came home, and made sure there was always delicious food in the house. If he couldn't help with their troubles, he could at least offer a safe haven to hide away from them for a little while.

Even though it meant swallowing down the frustration needling his spine, again and again.

Stop it. They're home now, just like mother said. They need to feel welcome, like everything's back to normal.

Pulling open the fridge, he made a quick inventory of ingredients. There was plenty of salted salmon and leftover chicken karaage he could combine with the rice for onigiri. Maybe he'd even cut up the seaweed to make them into little animal faces as an extra cheer up.

The knife chopped away, shredding the fillings. Leysritt did not join him, nor did Sella, even though it couldn't have taken her more than a few minutes to show the guest around the house. Without the need for sizzling pans or boiling water, the kitchen was entirely silent but for the muted shuffle of his hands forming the rice balls. When he strained his ears, he thought he could pick up the hint of several conversations drifting from deeper inside the house.

None of which he would be welcome to. So he added little seaweed ears and whiskers to make cats for Illya and bunnies for Chloe, already imagining the pleased blushes on their faces.

It would have to be enough.


The sun rose on a beautiful Sunday morning the next day, the weather crisp and clear outside Shirou's window. It felt like a shame that he was going to spend it indoors at the arcade, braving flashing lights and crowds that would give him a headache within the first hour.

But Illya and Chloe liked them. He'd barely been able to pry the latter girl from the racing game the last time they'd all headed there together, and she'd sworn that she'd return until her name held pride of place at the top of the charts.

Shirou smiled to himself as he threw on his clothes and padded out into the hallway. Maybe today would see his sister crowned in glory. If not, he had some extra change in his pocket for ice cream.

The scent of sizzling bacon and potato pancakes, Sella's specialty, greeted him as he slipped down the stairs towards the kitchen. His smile widened. It seemed he wasn't the only one eager to welcome his sisters home.

To his surprise, both girls were already seated around the table when he walked in.

"Good morning, onii-chan!" chirped Illya, moving her cup aside to make room for him.

"What's with that look?" Chloe smirked at him over her bread roll. "Surprised to see us up already?"

"Yes, actually," he said as he took his seat between them.

"Hehe, your little sisters are growing up. We'll be adults before you know it, y'know?"

"Is that so?" He accepted the mug of hot chocolate Sella grudgingly deposited in front of him. "Then I'll look forward to your graduations."

In the past, that would have brought a cute blush to Illya's face and a smirk to Chloe's. There was still a faint flush on both their faces, but it came with a visible tightening of their jaws.

"Definitely, onii-chan." He sensed rather than saw Illya's hands balling into fists under the table. "Be sure to bring us lots of flowers, okay?"

"Flowers are boring. Lotto tickets would be better, get the blood pumping—"

"Chloe!" Illya shot her a chastising look. "We're way too young to gamble!"

"We won't be then. Come on, where's that strong and decisive Illya we all rely on? The one that took on…"

She trailed off when she noticed Shirou's gaze on her, then cleared her throat.

"...that Homura girl when she was picking on Tatsuko, yeah."

"Ah, right, right." Illya muttered, picking at her omelet.

His plate received two fluffy pancakes and several pieces of crunchy bacon, courtesy of Sella's pan. Shirou found he had no appetite for any of it.

The arcade. Surely that would lift the oppressive mood hanging over the table.

He cleared his throat. "So, Illya, Chloe. I was thinking it's been a while since we hit the arcade. Mitsuzuri says they've got a brand new fighting game."

"I'm not that big on those, onii-chan…"

A small smirk lifted his lip. "It's the Magi Mari one."

Both girls' eyes lit up, and he knew he'd scored a winner. Delighted satisfaction fizzed in his veins—

—then flattened when Chloe shook her head. "Thanks, but we'll need to take a rain check."

Shirou rapidly blinked, looking between the two. "Really? But you're both crazy for the mobile game…"

"Sorry, onii-chan. We promised we'd go see Miyu today."

His grip tightened on his mug before he forced himself to relax. "I… I see. That's okay, the arcade's open most of the evening. We can go once you get back from Miyu's, I'm sure mom and dad won't mind if we stay out a little—"

"We won't be back until after dinner." Illya stared morosely into her cup, then abruptly straightened her shoulders. Meeting his gaze, she gave him a firm nod. "We'll all go together, sometime soon. I promise you, onii-chan."

The intensity of her ruby eyes took him a little aback. "Ahh… right. That sounds great."

They looked at him a moment longer, eyes roaming over his face in a way that felt less like searching and more like they were committing it to memory. Like he was a photograph they wanted to tuck safely away into their pockets.

A weight settled in his stomach. "Hey, listen…"

"Gotta go." Chloe rose from her seat so quickly it set the cutlery rattling, followed closely by their sister. "Thanks for breakfast, Sella! We'll see you later, onii-chan!"

Illya gave an abbreviated bow. "Thanks again for thinking of us!"

They disappeared out the door before he could get a word in edgewise. Sighing, he turned to find Sella frowning at his barely touched plate.

"Ah, sorry about that. I guess I'm just not feeling all that hungry today."

The maid blew out a sigh. "It's fine. Maybe you'll stay out of trouble for once."

'Hey—"

"That would be nice, now that we have something worse to worry about." She clicked her tongue. "Really, what was Lady Irisviel thinking, letting that girl stay here?"

She whisked away his dish without giving him any chance to change his mind and tipped it into the trash. Shirou winced at the sight of so much food going to waste, and knew that Sella would ordinarily deliver a stinging lecture to anyone she caught treating a meal that way.

Really, what was up with everyone this morning?

"Speaking of which, where is mother today?" Craning his neck, he could see two extra plates stacked in the dirty dish pile.

Sella shot him a warning look when he approached the sink, then relaxed when he reluctantly backed down from helping with the washing up. "Lady Irisviel is in the office doing some paperwork. She left strict instructions that she was not to be disturbed for anything less than an emergency."

"Oh. What about the old man?"

A dish joined the others sparkling on the drying rack. "Your father will be leaving town for a week."

Shirou couldn't help a little jolt of surprise. "Already? But Illya and Chloe just got home! I…"

The maid grabbed a pan and began vigorously scrubbing. "Some things can't be helped."

He watched her work a little longer, soapy bubbles dripping from her rubber gloves. When it became clear she would say no more, he grimaced and walked out through the dining room. He briefly thought about stacking the remaining dishes for Sella, but the effort wouldn't be welcome. Nor would it quell the disquiet in his chest when he considered the six chairs standing empty around the table.

Shirou shook his head. Enough wallowing. It was a beautiful day, and even if his plans had fallen through, it would be a shame to waste the sunshine.

The idle flip of a page caught his attention as he marched past the living room. He paused in the doorway and peered inside to find Leysritt thumbing through one of his old manga, a samurai epic he mostly remembered for its garish covers and dubious dialogue. Her crimson eyes seemed distracted, peering over the page at something across from her.

Following her gaze, he found the blonde—no, Miss Ainsworth—sitting in the same chair as yesterday, hands once again in her lap. If Shirou didn't know better, he might have thought she'd stayed there all night, still as a statue.

That was honestly kind of creepy.

The moment the thought was out, guilt prickled over Shirou's skin. It wasn't Miss Ainsworth's fault that things felt tense in the house. And maybe foreign customs were different, and she was just being polite. Either way, it was his job to make her feel welcome—

"How long are you gonna stand there?" Lesyritt didn't bother looking his way, simply flipping another page. "Nothing here for you."

Guilt gave way to irritation at being once again dismissed. It spurred him to come sit on the sofa next to her, stubbornly digging his heels into the fabric. A spoiler about Keniichi finding his father's grave in the castle danced on the tip of his tongue, and it was only the quiet shuffle of the blonde across from him that made him bite it back. He was supposed to make things better, not even more awkward.

So instead he offered her a smile. "Good morning, Miss Ainsworth."

There was the merest flicker in blue eyes before they returned to slate, so brief he almost thought he'd imagined it. "Good morning."

That seemed promising, even if it was delivered in the same monotone as yesterday.

"I didn't see you at breakfast. If you're hungry, maybe I can make you something?"

"She's fine." Leysritt's voice cut from beside him. "Sella brought her food earlier."

There was the faintest curl of disdain in Leysritt bored look, as if they were discussing a dog in a kennel. Shirou's brow furrowed, but luckily their guest didn't seem offended.

Or much of anything, really, her expression as neutral as ever. He realized he'd been staring a little too long when her eyes flicked back to him, and she gave him a nod.

"Yes. It is easiest for everyone if I take my meals in my room. I shall be careful not to leave a mess."

"Uh, okay... " Maybe she had a special diet or something. "But so you know, you're always welcome to join us."

"Thank you."

He might have called the sky blue, for all the inflection in that voice. Leysriitt huffed and shifted to sprawl more comfortably against the pillows, her eyes still moving between the manga and the blonde.

"There you go, everything's perfectly fine. I'm…. ugh… here if she needs anything, so don't worry about it."

"So what are your plans today?" Ignoring the little hiss of breath sucked through the maid's teeth, he nodded towards their guest. "There's quite a bit to see around Fuyuki. They've opened up a new plaza in Shintou, so…"

Doubt assailed him when her blue eyes stayed as flat as ever. "Ah, sorry! I'm being rude. I'll, ah, leave you to it then?"

He was halfway out of his seat when the blonde shook her head, only a fraction of a movement. "I have nothing planned."

"I see." Shirou let himself fall back on the sofa as he considered her. A hundred suggestions sprang to mind, but that risked being pushy. "Well, if there's anything you feel like doing, just let me know! I can show you around. I grew up here, after all."

Leysritt snorted. "Sella's right about you."

His brow twitched. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Another lazy flip of the page. "You're the worst kind of male. That, or so oblivious that there's no functional difference."

And there it was again, the same old accusation Issei always lobbed at him, albeit with more condescension and less frantic sutra chanting on his behalf. He was getting pretty sick of it.

"Listen here—" he began, then felt the blonde's gaze still on him. Hurriedly he coughed and turned back to her. "Don't feel obliged to take me up on that, though. I get it if you just want some time to yourself."

"Please do not bother yourself about me. I will remain out of your way until needed."

Shirou blinked. There was no crack in the carved stone of her expression. "Uh… you're our guest. It's kind of the other way around, isn't it?"

"You are the Emiya heir."

"I…" He scratched his cheek, taken aback by the abrupt change of topic. "Not really? I mean, I guess I'm the oldest, but it sounds weird when you put it like that."

Miss Ainsworth's stare didn't give an inch. "You are the heir. Seeing to my needs is a task best left to your retainers."

Forget taken aback — now she had rendered him completely speechless. "My... retainers? I don't... what?"

"We are Lady Irisviel's retainers. Not his." The crinkling of the manga's page was forceful enough to make Shirou wince before Leysritt sighed. "You might as well go, Shirou. At least one of us should have some fun today."

Shirou hesitated a moment longer, looking between narrowed red eyes and dull blue ones. Then he rose from the sofa and gave their guest a polite bow.

"I hope you have a good day, Miss Ainsworth. Maybe I'll see you around later."

Neither said anything as he left. On instinct, he headed out the door into the bright sunlit street. A walk down to the market district would do him some good. The first stop would be the barber's for a haircut that had been overdue the day his sisters vanished, then progressed to "direly needed" in the ensuing month of frantic searches. Then he'd browse through the stalls, maybe pick up a few boxes of strawberry pocky. Illya loved them, even if she seemed strangely ill at ease the past few times he'd offered her some. Maybe some red bean mochi for Chloe, in lieu of the rum bonbons that Mr. Hyuudou refused to sell to either of them.

And if he saw something that might cheer up their guest, he'd get some of that too. He had enough cash reserves to afford it, now that he wasn't going to the arcade.

If only he had any idea what that might be. Damn it, he really should have asked before heading out. He'd have to pick out something in the general ballpark of her home country and hope for the best.

Home country… Ainsworth was an English name, wasn't it? Yeah, it sounded like it might be.

Seeing to my needs is a task best left to your retainers.

Two blocks down, he veered off towards the Miyama library instead. If he wasn't exactly thrilled that he would be spending much of his Sunday indoors after all, looking into English customs seemed like a good idea.

Because clearly there was a lot that he wasn't quite getting.


The clock ticked on the mantlepiece of the living room. Angelica sat and existed.

She was alone at the moment, although the two homunculus maids that served as her wardens were in the next room over. With the passing days, their initial alarm slowly faded into a more relaxed vigil. Or perhaps it was simply that their programming wouldn't let them remain idle when all Angelica did was occupy the armchair, hour after hour.

How many hours? She… wasn't quite sure how many, which was a definite failure of her own function. Managing the household and taking care of Erika had necessitated a strict schedule, both in terms of planning and enforcement. Even if she took little personal pride in her tasks, she had always strived for efficiency as the servant and tool of the great house of Ainsworth.

But she wasn't that anymore, not since Julian had discarded her on that shattering platform. Entirely understandable after she had proved herself unfit for purpose.

Broken.

You're a person, not a doll! Illyasviel's voice sounded almost wounded even through the gray haze that shrouded Angelic's senses. And even if you're hurt, even if you can't fight, you're important! Everyone is valuable just as they are!

She knew better. The real Angelica had died long ago, and she was nothing but a marionette made in her image. And there was no purpose to a puppet too damaged to dance on anyone's strings. Her brother—no, the real Angelica's brother—had thrown her aside as useless to his ambitions. Nor could she move to the tune of Illyasviel and her cohort's quest to save their world. She still loved Julian despite everything, the only sunlight that pierced the haze, and such conflicting loyalties made her too dangerous to include in their war councils.

One such council was set to take place at the Edelfelt manor later today, from what she'd overheard when the Holy Grail… no, she had been instructed to refer to her as Miyu… had stopped by the house. They would discuss their plans to return to the snowy streets of her native world, and put an end to Julian's desperate gambit to save it.

Julian, who dubbed that gambit his legend so as to never allow himself to doubt it. Julian, who resisted Darius' weight on his soul so he could see it done. The little brother who had turned his magic circuits to cruel thorns and his mind to hard steel, and suffered both without complaint.

Julian, who would soon be at Illyasviel's throat.

Pain blossomed in Angelica's lower lip. It took her a moment to realize she had bitten it.

The iron taste of blood made her think of injuries, then antiseptic. The hospital bed where they'd gone to visit her brother's classmate, in a time that seemed impossibly long ago. The boy had thanked Julian profusely for paying the bills his family couldn't afford, then sworn on his pride to repay him with the most impressive model ship Fuyuki would ever see.

Julian had thanked him, but refused the offer as entirely unnecessary. That was her brother's way, always taking on the burdens of others, and refusing to take anything from them.

(Then why had the boy looked sadder when they left the room then he had when they'd first arrived?)

Angelica banished the inconsequential image in favor of her brother's solemn face. Always a serious child, the brightness in his face had frozen under the duty of the Ainsworth to save their dying planet, even before Darius' will had crept over him. He had torn out his compassion with every hard act done in the name of that duty, bleeding for a world he wouldn't leave behind. Nobody left behind.

(If only he'd been a little more like that boy she'd fought. A little more selfish.)

Julian had bled until he'd gone cold. If those two magi were to be believed, so cold that his ambition had entirely swallowed his dream. Yet Angelica couldn't help but love him still. And she could not choose a side, even now.

So she sat and existed. Nothing more.

The sound of raised voices drifted through the near wall. Faint at first, but rising in volume.

"I'm sorry onii-chan, but that's how it is!" Illyasviel's voice was almost shrill. "I won't let what happened to him happen to you!"

"Then just tell me, already!" the Emiya heir boomed. "I can't protect against something that no one will tell me anything about!"

A flicker of surprise sparked in her mind's gray fog. Angelica had thought this Emiya—the one that so resembled the grail's protector in appearance, yet so little in temperament—never shouted.

".. you have no idea…" A quieter tone, but one that promised an explosion.

The boy seemed to sense it too, his next words gentler. "Illya, listen…"

A shuddering gulp of air, then the explosion burst. "No! No, onii-chan, you listen!" Illyasviel's scream was raw with pain and tears. "You have no idea what's out there! No idea what they can do to you! They… they…"

A razor-wire silence, then a door was abruptly thrown open. The violent bounce of wood on plaster meant there would surely be a dent.

"Illya, wait! Please, wait!"

Footsteps charged down the hall, accompanied by muffled sobbing. Then the front door slammed shut with a loud crash, and a heavy silence descended on the house.

Friction between Illyasviel and her older brother, the family heir. Angelica mentally filed away the fact out of habit, in case it might be needed later.

Needed by who?

A sliver of pain in her lungs. She was just swallowing it down when a second set of footsteps, far quieter, came to a stop outside the living room.

The door slid open, revealing young Emiya's slumped shoulders and drawn face, flushed red under untidy bangs. His mouth twisted when he spotted her, then he closed his eyes and sighed before padding into the room. He paused in front of the sofa, then seemed to think better of it, instead coming to stand in front of her.

His eyes flicked to the wall, then back to her. "You must have heard that."

"Yes." There was no point in denying it.

He winced, then hastily bowed. "I'm… really sorry. I didn't mean for it to get... " His jaw tightened, then sagged as he blew out a sigh. "We shouldn't have made you uncomfortable."

"You didn't."

His fingers found the nape of his neck, dug in a little too hard. "That's gracious of you to say, but it doesn't change that I've been a terrible host. Between this, and rarely checking in on you, and the fact that I still haven't managed to bring you a single treat you liked…"

That was true, but through no fault of the heir's own. Her artificial tongue could register such things as salt and sweetness, but they failed to carry any emotional charge. More gray in an endless sea of it, too unimportant to justify forcing out their contours.

Fortunately, protocol furnished her with an approved response. "Please do not be concerned. The jellied eels and marmite and black pudding were all most acceptable."

"...so these are aristocratic manners," he muttered with a rueful smile. "That's okay, you don't need to spare my feelings."

"I don't—"

"I can tell you didn't enjoy them." He scratched his cheek and looked away. "Nothing ever touched your eyes when you ate them."

It took her a moment to process the odd turn of phrase. During that time, the boy sighed and shifted a little on his feet.

"Please do not worry yourself," she said at last. "It does not matter."

A broken doll was just that.

"It does." He dropped onto the sofa across from her, hands cradling his head. "I… look. I don't know why you're staying with us, or… or what's got everyone walking on piano wire these days, but… this is my home."

She nodded, unsure of what to do or say. Her training had no approved phrases for this.

"And I … I don't know. I just want people to be happy here." He leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling. "I want things to go back to how they were."

An impossibility. But he already knew it, judging from the ragged breath that left him.

"Sorry… I came in here to apologize for being a bad host, and here I am throwing all this on you."

"It is not a bother. I am honored that you would choose to confide in me."

That seemed like a safe response. And indeed, Emiya seemed to slowly calm, the tension visibly ebbing from his frame. Normally offering him a pillow and drink would fall to the family's own servants, but there was no movement from the other room. Perhaps they had gone to assist Illyasviel instead.

Angelica wondered if she should do it instead. Protocol forbade it from a guest, but she wasn't sure she truly fit in that category—

"Thanks," he murmured, then shifted on the sofa and leaned towards her. "Hey, listen. I'm… pretty sure we're going to be alone for supper tonight. My folks are gone, Chloe and Miyu are over at Luvia's, and Illya…"

His expression briefly crumpled before he pulled it back together.

"... will probably be out for a bit, which means Sella and Leysritt will be too. So let's focus on something we can solve—what would you like to eat?"

However dull her functions, she could still recall a few recipes that Erika had begged her to learn. She would make a meal for the heir to soothe him, then take her own plate up to her room once he tired of her presence.

What would the boy like? Erika favored chicken in sweet sauces, but the typical Japanese diet placed a greater emphasis on fish. Perhaps—

"It can be anything you like!" He smiled at her and rolled his shoulders. "Really, anything. I like a challenge in the kitchen sometimes. If we have the ingredients in stock, I'll give it a try."

Ah, the heir had eccentric hobbies. It seemed not every family was as efficient at rooting out frivolity as the Ainsworth. But this wasn't the castle, and she wasn't an Ainsworth anymore. There was no harm in indulging him.

"I would be pleased to try whatever you already had in mind for tonight." She folded her hands in her lap. "I do not wish to be a burden."

The way he looked at Angelica reminded her a little of Julian, even if the soft crease of his brow looked nothing like her brother's tight press of lips. The thoughtful little hum as he considered called up an uncomfortable pressure in her chest.

He would lock himself in the kitchen and work furiously for the next two hours, then present her with a gourmet meal and a variety of side dishes to make sure at least something was to her taste. And if nothing was, he would try again and again over the coming weeks until he got a hit. That was what Julian would have done, before the thorns consumed him.

Then Emiya rose from the sofa and nodded towards the door. "If you're worried about burdening me, then why don't you come help out?

She gave him a blank stare. "Help… in what way?"

"Pick out the ingredients and do a little food prep. Then you won't be imposing on me, you'll be assisting me." His brows lifted cheerfully. "That's all right, isn't it?"

Angelica hesitated. While she had some cooking skills, there was little doubt that she would be more of a hindrance than a help without having studied the recipe beforehand. There was no logical reason for her to accede to his request.

… except that it would be purposeful, wouldn't it? A task to complete, one that put neither her brother or her rescuers at risk.

A function.

"Yes. That would be acceptable."

She didn't understand why his smile widened as he offered his hand to help her from the chair.


Minerva's note: This story sprouted out of spite. There are a lot of people, and thus a lot of stories, that like to fellate Miyuverse Shirou, because he's all the "best" parts from all the different Shirous combined into one. He's the perfect fanfic Shirou. So of course he's the coolest and he gets all the bitches and—you get the picture.

So instead, let's do a Prillyaverse-Shirou-centered fic. Let's ship him with Angelica, let's show off how powerless he is and then use that as his power. What the hell does that mean? Nothing big, I assure you. Nothing flashy. No super cool UBW chant. All he has is kindness, and it is exactly that kindness that will help her feel warmth and light again.

This takes place after season 4 of the anime, when they come back from Miyu's reality. There's a little bit of AU-ness involved, as you can tell, and we're not going to be following the anime or manga much. Mostly, this is Angelica and Shirou's story, so the focus will be on them. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it.