A young woman sat on the riverside in the French sunshine, trailing her heels in the water. Reeds swayed in the breeze. The water lapped gently against the bank, with soft splashing sounds. Birds were singing… um, probably, somewhere, although half of them had been scared off and the other half were dead from shockwaves. It should have been an idyllic scene, and it would have been if not for the massive body lying on the bank like a beached whale.

It wasn't a corpse, honestly it wasn't! Occasionally it let out a pained cough, and shifted slowly when it thought the young woman wasn't looking, so it was just fine, probably. You couldn't feel too sorry for it, anyway, because it was a dragon, after all.

"You can hurry up and go away whenever you're ready," said the young woman, severely. "I banished you, fair and square, so that means you have to leave."

A rumbling groan was her answer, somehow indicating that the dragon would leave if only it still had the use of its legs.

"Oh, don't be such a wuss. You were the one that surprised me, jumping out of the water like that. And by the sounds of things, you've been causing all kinds of trouble for the villagers, with your…" the woman gestured vaguely, "you know, ravening and that. Don't dish it out if you can't take it, that's what I say."

Another grumble. The dragon swished its tail back and forth, as if to say that it was in an entirely unreasonable amount of pain for what had only been a little bit of ravening, and anyway, banishment was done with prayer and abjurations, not a rock-hard fist to the back of the skull. What the young woman had done (suggested the curve of the tail) was less holy miracle and more animal cruelty.

"Listen, if you want to see animal cruelty-" The woman stopped herself, and lowered her raised fist. The dragon relaxed from its terrified cower.

It did have a point, no matter how horrible it had been and no matter how much the young woman's actions were totally justified. It was true, she wasn't a typical holy woman. Most of those spent their time sequestered, contemplating the Divine or… or something, she wasn't sure. That sort of thing had never interested her, because she knew what being properly holy actually took.

She had met the Divine. Spoken to Him. Seen Him do incredible things. And the key thing that she'd taken away, when He'd raised her little brother from being stone dead into the laughing, loving boy he had been?

God did things. He acted to help. That sounded like a lesson to take to heart.


Martha liked to think of herself as a calm and peaceful person. Okay, she had a temper, she'd be the first to admit that, but she liked to think she was just intolerant of injustice. Still, immediately blowing up at the first sign of anything not going her way wasn't really very saintly, so at times when her patience was tested she made an effort to remind herself that it was a virtue and wrath a sin.

In a lot of ways her 'saint' demeanour came from trying to emulate her little sister Mary. When the Saviour had arrived in their village, she'd been the one to wash His feet, while Martha – to her shame – had acted like a bit of a wild child.

She liked to think she was beyond that now.

So, after she'd sent little Matou Sakura up to bed in one of the guest rooms (with a mug of hot chocolate and strict instructions from Martha to brush after finishing it), she prevented herself from grabbing her Master's lapels and putting him through walls until he apologised.

Into a wall, sure, she'd admit that. Just the one.

Sakura had told them everything. Assassin had told her to, she said.

"How could you?" Martha hissed into her Master's face, only barely keeping from yelling so as not to wake Sakura. "Your own daughter! How could you?"

His only reply was a splutter. Possibly Martha had been a little rough in slamming his back against the wall, although she felt she could be forgiven. Nothing was broken, probably.

Kotomine Kirei appeared in the hall. "What is wrong? Rider, why are you…" He gestured at the scene of Martha pinning her Master against the wall like a thug shaking down a victim.

This wouldn't do. If this was to be solved, it would be solved with words and reflection, not violence. She couldn't set a bad example in front of a priest, after all. She released Tokiomi, who staggered but remained upright.

"We need to talk," she said. "The sitting room, please, Master. Now."

In they went – Tokiomi Tohsaka, somewhat less elegant than usual with plaster on his shoulders and walking with a stoop; Martha herself, seething with fury; Kotomine Kirei, as inscrutable as ever; and quietly dominating the room as always, in the same way a mountain dominates a sandpit, Enkidu, as impossible to read as their Master.

Tokiomi was the only one to sit on the sofa provided. Kirei remained standing, placing himself protectively behind his teacher; Enkidu simply planted themselves in a corner of the room, perhaps not deigning to use something so new-fangled as a chair; Martha paced, too angry to sit down.

"I am trying," she said, "to convince myself that there is some explanation for you selling your daughter off like livestock to people that put her through… that. I am trying to be charitable. Please, please, Master, tell me this isn't as bad as I think it is. Tell me I've gotten it all wrong."

Tokiomi sighed, and steepled his fingers. "Tell me, Rider," he started, slowly. "How much do you know about how magecraft is passed down in the modern day?"

"Nothing at all," Martha said immediately. She didn't bother demanding to know why this was relevant – her Master was obviously about to tell her.

Tokiomi nodded. "There is a certain amount of the fundamentals that can be taught to anyone who has the aptitude – by which I mean magic circuits. This does not require a blood relation, which is why I can count Kirei here among my pupils, even though all we share is friendship." He nodded to Kirei, who maintained a poker face.

"However, magic is not something that can be learned in any depth in a mortal lifetime. Teaching first-generation magi like Kirei can only ever produce mere magic-users, technicians to a true magus' scholar. No doubt Kirei makes good use of it, but for magecraft to truly be passed down, you need a Magecraft Crest, to codify the foundation of a family's work and give their heirs a deeper connection to the World to work from. These Crests do require a blood connection to move from one bearer to another, in almost all cases – and there is another limitation, also.

"Due to our Crests containing the sum total of a family's work, only one heir is able to inherit our magic. The other must be kept in the dark, away from what would otherwise be their birthright, forever denied the chance to fulfil their potential." He stared at the table, clearly seeing something very different to the varnished wood. "In the end, that's what this is all about – potential. Both Rin and Sakura's were incredible. If I had somehow only had one daughter, I should have been delighted to raise either into a Tohsaka head to far surpass me. But I had two. One of these incredible gems would be wasted. It bothered me – and, more than that, it would be actively dangerous for Sakura to be so untaught. There are things, monsters, in this world that prize the blood or hair or hearts of magi, trained or no." He huffed out a bitter laugh. "I include magi among these monsters, to be clear."

Martha stayed silent. There was a lot she wanted to say – about responsibility, about not having a second child in the first place if you knew you weren't prepared to raise them correctly, about how being worried about your child falling prey to some horrible fate was more reason to keep them close not less – but she bit her lip and glared instead. She would say her piece once her Master had said his.

"Then, the Matou approached me with an offer," Tokiomi continued. "Their blood had been thinning ever since they came to this land, producing weaker and weaker magi. I have always suspected this was something Tohsaka Nagisa did, playing the long game so that his enemies defeated themselves over time just by staying close to the Grail… but that is only speculation. Whatever the cause, the Matou had finally reached their last hope – their only 'promising' heir vanished, with no interest in pursuing the art, his brother useless and his nephew even more so.

"What is the saying – sometimes, when you have two problems, what you actually have is one solution? It was incredible just how well our situations were suited to resolve each other. Sakura would go to the Matou, to learn their magic and strengthen their bloodlines; Rin would be the one to inherit the Tohsaka Crest. I don't remember, now, how we decided which girl would go where. I don't think Matou expressed a preference… it may well have been simply that, being older, Rin had picked up more of the basics. Sakura had less to unlearn, you might say – I can only think that a certain amount of conditioning was required for her to begin learning magecraft."

This was too much to let go by. "Learning magecraft?" Martha echoed in disbelief. "Worms, Master! The Matou just allowed her to be violated by worms, for no other reason I can see than their own sick fun! What part of that sounds like learning magic?"

"I don't know," said Tokiomi easily. "I am obviously unfamiliar with the Mysteries behind the Matou magic, although I know it involves absorption – that is, the practice of binding things onto oneself. The form this usually takes is… inelegant, and disgusting, yes. But I assure you, Sakura would have been no better off had she stayed a Tohsaka and learned my magic. Magecraft involves suffering, Rider. Always. No matter the type."

As he spoke, he removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve. With a grunt, lines began glowing under his skin, tracing out a complex pattern. Tokiomi met Martha's eyes, steadily.

"Right now, I feel as though red-hot wires are lodged underneath my skin, connected to every nerve – and there are a lot of nerves, especially in the hand. Every movement must be carefully controlled to avoid a spasm, because if the magic circuits that make up the Crest are jolted in any way, there is a small chance of misfire. Activating my native magic circuits produces a similar effect, if less concentrated. If I fail to control my magecraft, it will kill me. To be a magus is to walk with death – no matter how pretty that magecraft may look."

He smiled, wry and humourless. "Rin has all this to look forward to. I wanted to rip my arm off when I first activated the Crest – the one I pass to her will be larger and more developed, because that is the whole point of accumulating research over multiple generations."

Tokiomi paused at this point, to check if Martha had any reaction. She did, to put it mildly, but while she was deciding what exactly it was going to be, her Master continued.

"However it was done, it was done. Sakura went to the Matou, and I tried to forget she was ever mine. It isn't done, you see, to interfere with how another magus family raises their heir or teaches their magic, and it wouldn't have done Sakura any good to have any reminders of her former life. I think I succeeded, for what that is worth, although it hit Aoi and especially Rin much harder.

"And that is it," he finished. "You will now, I imagine, lay out all your righteous anger. Scream at me, maybe slam me against a wall again." He rolled his shoulders. "As I hope I have made clear, I cannot make Sakura part of my family once again, and would not even if I could, so please at least spare the plasterwork."

Martha… considered. Tokiomi was quite right, she wanted very badly to take out her rage on her Master – but, she suspected, more to comfort herself than really to punish evil. She had thought he was a good man, a godly man, and that this was how the Grail had seen fit to match him with her. To talk so callously of simply giving up his own flesh and blood, damn her decision and damn the consequences… it made her worry. The Grail wasn't wrong, so just what did it see in her to match her with this man?

That this should be done simply so that Sakura could better learn her dark miracles was another conversation altogether. Martha knew nothing about magecraft, but she did know a lot about the casting out of dark powers, and how witches were not to be suffered. Risei had told her the Church had an uneasy truce with magi, and he had assured her that Tokiomi was a Christian first and a magus second.

She had believed him. Now, she wondered if that might not have just been Risei's love for his friend blinding him to his faults.


At length, the young woman stood up, and dusted herself off, disturbing a couple of grasshoppers that had crept closer while she rested. Arriving into town with grass stains and muck on her bottom was not any way for a holy woman to behave.

"Right," she said. "You've had long enough. Shove off, or I really will have to try to start banishing you properly. And I'm terrible at that, so I can't promise I won't get frustrated again."

A nervous growl came from the massive form.

The young woman turned to regard it. For a dragon, it wasn't very… dragonish. For a start, it looked more like a cat than a lizard, although with a crocodilian tail and turtle shell, six legs, and a mouth full of needle-like teeth. Also, it was over a hundred feet long.

It did breathe fire, though, so much so that the river had boiled dry for a moment there. Or maybe that was from the young woman had done in response… she wasn't entirely sure of what she'd done when the thing had ripped her staff from her hands and the red mist descended.

Um… actually, hold on, that would be pretty bad for a holy woman, so definitely not a red mist, no, some kind of sparkly holy mist of forgiveness and mercy.

mercy, huh?

The woman looked round and regarded the dragon. It regarded her with an air of wounded innocence, as though she hadn't seen it start to sidle towards the river again.

A dragon was evil. It shouldn't really need to be said, but a dragon was Evil with a capital E, and a powerful symbol of opposition to Christianity. It wasn't just about it being a large, powerful creature that had no reservations about eating people – dragons weren't natural animals, and weren't under Adam's stewardship. If the Devil had a physical form on Earth, it would be a dragon.

And yet…

This river monster clearly thought, if not quite in the same manner as humans then with no less insight and cunning. It could be taught, if the way it was beginning to shuffle nervously under her gaze was any indication. Despite its looks, it was clearly some manner of being, not just a beast.

In the end, it wasn't her place to judge. That right was given to one much greater than her.

And redeeming a dragon… that was truly a task worthy of one who sought to follow in the footsteps of the Lord. It would be, well, a miracle. The woman could think of so many ways that this dragon could be helpful, if turned to the service of Heaven.

"Right, you," she said. "You're coming with me. Up you get."

The dragon froze, and opened its mouth in sheer disbelief.

"Don't just sit around gaping," she chided, "Stand up and walk it off. You're coming back with me to the village, you're going to apologize… or, um, growl nicely and I'll translate… and then you've got to promise not to eat anyone else, or I'll be very cross."

A slow shake of the head, sending droplets of river water flying – not in disagreement, just in incomprehension.

The woman sighed. "I really am sorry about, you know, getting so violent. I really try not to, and you did surprise me, and you are a dragon. But it was still wrong of me. If it helps, I'll promise to not let anyone else be mean to you just because you are a dragon. You promise to be good, and I'll look after you. Sound fair?"

The dragon gave one last incredulous shake of the head, and lumbered to its feet, wincing as it did. The woman had really hurt it quite badly, it seemed to indicate, and if it could be allowed to eat even one last villager before it started being good it would feel very much better-

"Listen here, you little – ahem, that is, we can finish this the other way if you really insist," smiled the woman, holding up a fist and absolutely not flushing at her slip.

but if it was going to be a holy dragon, it could probably start with fasting, said the defeated droop of the dragon's horns.

"Good!" The woman picked up her cross-shaped staff, laid very carefully on the grass. "I suppose we ought to introduce ourselves. I'm Martha." Martha puffed her chest out, and smiled broadly.

The dragon said nothing, but, you know, much harder than it hadn't been saying all those other things.

"Oh! I don't suppose you have a name, so I ought to give you one." Martha hmm'd, and put a hand to her chin in thought. "Well, you're the dragon of Tarascon, so how about… Tarrasque?"

Tarrasque indicated that this would probably be acceptable.

And the woman and the dragon walked back towards the village, and into legend, as the saint who quelled a dragon with her pure and gentle nature and definitely nothing else, and the dragon who obediently repeated when asked that it had seen her purity and goodness and joined the side of the angels.


Martha had to try. If she went around thinking people were irredeemable, what did that say about her friend?

"Whatever might have gone on in the past – I don't know," she said. "Although I certainly do have things to say! You could have given her to the Church where she wouldn't have to suffer so. You could have just kept her in her own home, and made a little extra effort to protect your secrets while she lived here. You could have at least asked her opinion, which it seems no-one bothered to do!" She stopped, breathing heavily, and forced herself not to get distracted by the many, many ways this could have ended without Sakura being ripped away from her entire support network and forced to host parasites in her body.

And, after all, it still wasn't her place to judge. What she could do – was obliged to do, in fact – was be an example. Damn whoever thought it was a good idea to make her of all people a saint.

Still, it wasn't her place to forgive, either, so she didn't have to be nice about it.

"Right," she said, folding her arms. "Here's what's going to happen. From now on, Sakura is your daughter, and your responsibility. Giving her to the Matou obviously didn't work out, so now you're going to make it right. Think of it as… oh, I don't know, reclaiming an investment that's gone poorly, if it helps. But I'm telling you, as kind of an expert – this is the righteous thing to do, and I strongly suggest you heed me, or you won't like what happens next." She huffed. "I do want to help, Master – Tokiomi. The Grail must go to someone, and I trust no-one left in the War aside from you and Kirei. Better either of you than, oh, the Magus Killer, or that conniving Caster. And I don't want you or Risei or Kirei to die. So I want to fight in your War.

"But I can't ignore evil when it's happening in front of me, and I won't enable you or your wish if you're not worthy of it. If you don't promise me right now that you'll do your duty as a father and a Christian, then there's no point my even being here – and I'll refuse to do my duty as a Servant, because doing what is right by God comes before what I want. No matter the consequences."

Of all people, Kirei started at that. He shifted in his seat, and looked at Lancer – who, for their part, simply inclined their head.

Tokiomi, on the other hand, was very still. Only his eyes moved, down to his hand. "I think you may find me more persuasive than you anticipate," he said, voice trembling only slightly.

Martha didn't even blink. "No. Use those Command Spells all you like – my faith is stronger than your magic. Check that clairvoyance of yours, or that book you made that does the same job, because I'm pretty sure if it says anything at all about me, it says that nothing and no-one will make me act against my beliefs."

"I'm willing to take that bet," said Tokiomi, teeth and fist clenched. "You haven't heard Risei's stories about the Third War. Command Spells can force even the strongest-willed Servant to suicide. Is that where you want to take this?"

"Go ahead," she said. "If you are the kind of Master that would trample on my beliefs like that, you go ahead and Command me to kill myself. This isn't my real body, or my real soul – it's a copy from the Throne, so don't you worry about sin. And you know what? Even if it were, I'd still sacrifice myself for an innocent! There's the line, Master – we found where I'm willing to go. Take in your daughter, treat her like a human being, actually think about what the right thing to do is and not just the most elegant thing, or you're getting nothing else out of me." She finished, breathing hard, and silence reigned.

An unspeakable pressure built up in the room. Kirei, caught in it, sat awkwardly. He hadn't said anything throughout the argument, but seemed troubled, glancing between Tokiomi, Martha and Lancer as if unsure who to believe.

Lancer, alone of everyone present, seemed entirely at ease, which probably came naturally when you were invincible. So long as Kirei was safe, there was nothing anyone in the room – or the city, or the planet – could do to threaten them. Martha had not figured out the Chain of 'Heaven'. Lancer seemed passive, unworried and accepting of everything that came along… but occasionally, they expressed an opinion.

One such opinion had been 'This city would be better off without Berserker and also a large chunk of Mount Enzou in it'. Martha did not want to press Lancer too hard to find out where their own tripwires lay.

And while she had had other things on her mind, she hadn't missed that Lancer had had more than one private talk with their Master. Obviously that was right and proper, and a Servant and Master should have a bond, but Kirei hadn't been quite the same lately. At the start of the War he'd been self-assured, confident, unworried. Now, it seemed like he was second-guessing everything.

Tokiomi sat, stiff as a statue, Command Spells glowing, not a hair out of place but a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Still the elegant magus, still a man in his place of power, but rattled as forces larger than he could control finally brushed against the edges of his authority. Suddenly his expensive suit didn't seem so impressive, the fine furniture no more than a distraction.

Martha's hands gripped her staff tight enough that it would have snapped in two if it had been a mere solid iron bar instead of one of the holiest relics in the world. Her eyes were fixed on her Master's, silently willing him to just bend for once. Then she took a breath, and instead simply prayed for guidance and the salvation of this man's soul.

After several seconds, Tokiomi sighed and broke eye contact.

"Very well. For the duration of the War, at least, I can make arrangements for Sakura's safety. She can go with Aoi and Rin for now. Clearly the Matou are not up to protecting their investment, so it seems I must do it for them. A good ally, to the last." He coughed.

Martha didn't call him on the obvious attempt to save face. Instead, she simply said, "Thank you, Master. You won't regret it."

Inside, she silently rejoiced. Pride was a sin as much as wrath, but she felt she'd achieved something for the first time in the War. Even if it was just easing the suffering of a little girl, even if it was just setting her father on a more righteous path.

Forgiveness. Mercy. Second chances. Those kinds of things were what Heaven was built on.


Kirei could take it no more. Rider and his teacher left the room, Lancer rose to follow, and Kirei stepped forward, hesitating to touch their shoulder. They turned anyway, with the look of someone who knew exactly what you were about to ask.

But Lancer always made Kirei say things out loud. Kirei steeled himself.

"Lancer. Please. I need-" no, Lancer hated it when he hid behind necessity, "-I want to talk to you."