A/N: FYI there's no Shirou in this chapter. Don't bother making a review if it's just to complain about that

The afternoon light poured through the window of Zenith's bedroom, bathing the room in soft, golden hues. The panes were open, letting in the cool afternoon breeze into the room and causing Zenith's limp blond strands to softly tickle her face. The idea had been Lilia's—the dark and musty room needed to be aired out, the maid had said—she needed some sunlight, Lilia had insisted—but Zenith wanted nothing more than to just shut the window, close the curtains, and dive back into the comfort of her bed sheets.

It was only out of knowledge that her friend was ultimately correct that had stayed her hand, though Zenith wished that such logic had come to her before, before she had been reduced to this state.

She made for a pathetic sight, and if her mother was here, she would have jeered at Zenith's helplessness, citing that she had been wrong to run away all those years ago. The thought of that made Zenith bristle, but the anger left her as soon as it entered, vanishing just like the stale air that circulated out the window.

Ah, Lilia turned out to be correct. She tended to be when it came to matters such as this.

Outside, there was only the soft chirping of birds and animals to interrupt the silence inside the room. It made for a comforting melody, she supposed, a nice reprieve from the dark whispers that inhabited her mind the past few days. Of course, such solace was quickly wrenched away from her trembling grasp when exhaustion inevitably won and a singular blink was all that was needed for Zenith to be swallowed by a storm of sensations and emotions, flashes of places she had never been to before, voices of people she didn't know, pain and suffering of a life that wasn't hers.

And then Zenith would jolt awake, matted hair clinging to her face, her frail shoulders shaking and quivering as frantic eyes scoured the room for something—anything.

A few times, Lilia or Paul had been there, sitting at her bedside with thinly veiled concern on their faces. They would ask her what was wrong, what she saw, and Zenith had told them eventually after enough pestering, the nightmares plaguing her dreams coming more often and vivid until it was almost like she was less of a spectator and more like a participant.

Of course, they couldn't do anything. At best, they could only listen, and venting her frustrations did help to an extent, but they couldn't fully assuage her worries. After all, even if she told them everything, they could only know, never understand.

Perhaps she needed to go to Millis or Ars to see someone. Travel was dangerous nowadays, but with Paul, as long as they used more commonly traveled roads, there was a good chance they could make it safely.

But even if the nightmares went away, they were only symptoms of the issue. The true root of her issues would still be unresolved, and while perhaps her mind might be clearer after treatment, the clarity she gained was only temporary relief, and the persistent sense of failure and ever-present ache of loneliness would gnaw at her until she was back where she was started.

Of course, there was also the possibility that the nightmares were natural, simply a sign of her degrading mind. In some morbid way, perhaps staying ignorant was a blessing.

"Lady Zenith, you have guests." a stern voice called out from behind the bedroom door.

"… Come in…"

Lilia had mentioned that Paul's friend had brought his family along. On some level, she was prepared to greet them, but whether or not she would be able to actually do so was another question.

Well, despite her reservations about her upbringing, she had been raised as a noble, and hiding behind a mask was the basis for her training. She was more than accustomed to it by this point.

The door opened with a languid creak, and Lilia entered first, followed by two figures—a tall brunette, Alice, if Zenith remembered correctly from Lilia and Paul's descriptions, and a small girl with green hair—Sylphiette—who stayed close to the woman's side.

The small smile that blossomed on her face came naturally, not requiring any deceit from Zenith. Sylphiette was good company, and despite her initially shy demeanor, the girl's easily fascinated curiosity was something Zenith had enjoyed.

In some ways, it was the exact thing she had expected to do with her own child, but that was a dangerous line of thought to follow, and there was little point in doing so anyway.

Zenith straightened in her bed, years of noble training automatically adjusting her posture despite her fatigue. The afternoon breeze stirred the curtains, sending shadows dancing across the wooden floor as formal introductions were made.

She was warm, Zenith noticed. Not in the obvious, physical sense, but the other woman's kindness was glaringly obvious. From the way she spoke to the gentleness of her features, she radiated a certain sense of… comfort, almost like she was a miniature sun that Zenith instinctively crowded around, basking in her warmth.

Zenith welcomed the woman with a fragile smile, one that she hoped would hold.

She did the whole song and dance, a routine explanation for her unfortunate state that Zenith had rehearsed in her head for a while now. Zenith's health had always been in a poor state for the past few years, and while she had not outright been sick, the constant exhaustion had taken its toll on her over time, leaving her in a state of brittleness that finally prevailed over her a few days ago.

There were no lies in that explanation, and it was for that reason that Zenith had some confidence in her ability to maintain it. Lilia had been its first recipient, though by now, the maid had known Zenith for long enough that she had seen through half-hearted words, a side-effect of Zenith not having had the courage to truly lie to her friend. Then again, Lilia was a perceptive person, and she would not have been surprised if the caretaker saw through her lies regardless.

When Zenith tried the same with Alice, she could immediately tell that the woman wasn't entirely convinced, but she had the tact to not call out the bedridden woman in her own house. Sylphiette, on the other hand, was none the wiser, accepting Zenith's explanation with nothing more than a sad frown and almost heartbroken eyes. The sight of it was like a metaphorical punch to Zenith's gut, but she was more than used to it by this point, and it was not nearly as painful as the ones she had received from the other child in her life.

Still, that did not stop Zenith from entertaining the little girl, entertaining her with adventures before she settled down.

It was nice, she admitted, having a taste of the normalcy that had been deprived from her. A cute, young girl whose expressions lit up with wonder at the simplest recounting of Zenith's adventures—it was a balm for her frayed nerves. Sylphiette was sitting on some chairs Lilia had pulled over some at some point, her large, curious eyes fixed on Zenith as though the older woman were spinning the most captivating tale ever told.

The little girl's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Wow, Lady Zenith, you're so brave! I wish I could go on adventures like that one day."

Zenith's heart clenched at the earnest declaration. There was an innocence in Sylphiette's words that felt both heartwarming and painfully nostalgic. It reminded Zenith of herself when she was younger, a time when she herself had been full of dreams and aspirations. Unfortunately, the stories she shared were so far removed from her present reality, it was as though they belonged to another person entirely. Was this what her life had been reduced to? Living in memories, entertaining children with tales of a time when she'd felt alive and free, before reality's weight had pressed so heavily upon her shoulders.

It made the contrast with her own child all the starker. Where Sylphiette's reactions were childishly genuine, her son's responses always felt calculated. Where this girl showed natural childhood awkwardness, Shirou moved with unnatural grace. Even their curiosity differed—Sylphiette's questions about magic came from innocent wonder, while Shirou was content to sit back and accept things as they were, almost as if most things simply disinterested him.

However, despite the multitude of what-could-have-been's lingering in her mind, Zenith's mood was still noticeably brighter. Even if it was just a little bit, the weight in her chest felt just a bit lighter, the ever-present pressure on her mind just slightly weaker.

Enough so that she was feeling just the slightest bit adventurous.

"L-Lady Zenith, please lay back down," Lilia warned, her face twisted in concern. True to the woman's caution, Zenith's legs wobbled and shook, their lack of use lately weakening the muscles and causing her balance to shift precariously. "Whatever it is you require, I am more than able to retrieve it for you."

Ah, it looks like she wasn't quite strong enough yet.

"Sorry, I just thought maybe by now I would be able to do something." The words almost came out in a slur, a sudden wave of vertigo crashing into Zenith. The world slowly spun around her, the attempt leaving her disoriented.

"Alas, please wait until you recover more."

It was a sad fact but one Zenith accepted with a nod.

"I-I hope you get b-better, Mrs. Zenith!" Sylphiette stammered out.

Zenith blinked once, almost perplexed, before her eyes crinkled in a smile. "Thank you." She turned to Lilia with a pleading expression, a wordless request exchanged between the two.

Lilia raised an eyebrow before letting out a silent sigh. "Sylphiette, if you would like, I believe there's a chest in the storage room with some old trinkets. I may not quite be as well-traveled as Zenith, but there are quite a few interesting stories I could tell if you would like."

Predictably, crimson orbs lit up in with interest, those same eyes turning up towards Alice with a pleading glint.

"Of course, just make sure you don't break anything. We're guests here." Alice said with a gentle smile.

Sylphiette let out a cry of gratitude before turning to Lilia. The maid's eyes lingered ever so slightly on the girl's mother before leaving the room with the curious girl in tow.

Zenith watched the two exit with a faint curve on her lips. She would have been lying to herself if the loss of the little girl's presence didn't bother her. Truthfully, she would have been more than happy to continue reliving better times, but her health did not seem to allow for it.

"She's a lively one, isn't she?"

Zenith turned towards the other occupant of the room. A satisfied expression bloomed on Alice's face, and she wondered just how outwardly obvious the stark difference between the two was.

"She is. You're raising her well."

The woman giggled softly at the words. "Laws and I try hard to make sure she becomes a good kid. Of course, it helps that she's very amenable to it. With how much she's been through, it would have been easy for her to be a bit more problematic than she is. Then again, she's always been a smart child. Maybe she would have turned out fine anyways."

A surge of envy rose up within Zenith's chest again, but she forced it back down. "Well, you know what they say—nature and nurture. It's always a good split of both. You need a parent who knows what to each and a child that is willing to learn. Without either of the two, it just doesn't work."

Alice mulled over her words with a contemplative look. "That's true." Alice crossed the room and pulled the chair closer to the bed, sitting down with graceful ease. "Still, I have to thank you for appeasing her. Sylphiette's always been a bit shy, but she opens up with some time and effort."

"She's a nice girl. It's hard to imagine someone not wanting to talk to her."

"You think so?" The smile on Alice's face came just a bit more brittle. "I personally agree. She's a sweet girl, but that hasn't stopped the local village boys from bullying her."

Zenith's eyes narrowed at the memory and the one associated with them.

"Because of her lineage and the nature of kids, she has a hard time making friends—or even getting anyone her age to speak with her, for that matter."

"Her lineage? You don't mean—"

"The fact that she's part demon, yes," Alice confirmed. "I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. People are hateful, little creatures, after all. Always dividing. Always scheming. Always so emotional and impulsive. Often times, I wonder if the true monsters are actually the prowling beasts that destroy cities and towns of innocent, hard-working people, but then I remember that people do that to each other anyway, and my answer becomes all the more clear."

It was a surprisingly cynical response from the jovial, upbeat woman. But then again, the brightest lights always did cast the darkest shadows.

She wondered just how much this woman had gone through, the burden she carried silently and without complaint all this time. If she had not revealed herself, Zenith would not have known any better, simply taking Alice at face value.

Another point of envy, she mentally noted.

"How pessimistic," Zenith said. However, she did not refute Alice's claims. Zenith had encountered her fair share of unsavory groups, and one did not adventure as much as she did without seeing the nasty, perverse side humanity had to offer.

"Surprised?"

"… No."

Alice's grin grew. "It's hard, keeping up the act. Pretending like every day doesn't weigh on you just a bit more than the previous. But unfortunately, that's just how life goes. It doesn't make my words less true, mind you, but sometimes my faith in them just becomes a bit weaker." The woman's eyes drifted back towards the door where her daughter left from. "But then I remember just what it is I'm fighting for, why I try so hard every day, and I can hold together for just a bit longer."

"… How lovely." This time, Zenith couldn't quite disguise envy in her tone, how the widening pit in her heart caused her voice ever so slightly, how her knuckles were bone-white underneath her sheet, how the ocean-blue of her eyes hardened into icy orbs.

Alice regarded the other woman with an appraising look, not put off by the sudden hostility. "It is," she conceded. "However, from my perspective, I don't believe your own situation is lacking in any way."

"My own situation…" There was no attempt to hide how Zenith's face abruptly lost its amicable expression, her lips straightening to a thin line. "Just what are you getting at?" she accused.

"I think it's obvious, Zenith, but if you want me to be direct, I'm referring to your son."

The tight line became a full-on scowl.

"What's there to talk about?"

The woman stared at Zenith for a few seconds before giving her a disappointing shake of her head. "You're making this hard, you know. I assure you I just want to help."

"I don't need help."

Alice raised a dainty eyebrow. "You certainly have seen better days. A question, then: why haven't you used your magic to cure yourself of your illness yet?"

The question might as well have been a spear, piercing through Zenith's chest and cutting the wind from her sails.

Zenith remained silent, casting a frosty glare towards Alice but otherwise offering no response.

It wasn't that the idea had never crossed her mind before. Zenith wasn't stupid, despite what people from her past might have said. However, the silence of an empty room, just her and her thoughts, not having to deal with what laid beyond that door, it was almost an easy choice.

Of course, it wasn't perfect—nothing ever was. In here, she was left alone to wrestle with her thoughts while she was awake and her nightmares when she was sleeping. However, it was better than the alternative, a small reprieve from the chaos—just a break where she could gather her wits and steel her resolve for later.

Or perhaps she was running away. She was quite good at that by now, surely. Just like when she was younger, when she stormed out of her family's house in a fit of youthful rebellion.

"There's just some things you don't understand," Zenith finally said, her tense posture deflating slightly.

A pregnant silence filled the room, the tension between the two women almost palpable enough to cut with a knife.

Alice watched Zenith carefully, her sharp blue eyes never wavering, as if searching for something beneath the exhausted, withdrawn exterior. Her lips quirked in what might have been amusement, though the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. "Things I don't understand?" she echoed, tilting her head slightly. "I think I understand quite a lot, actually."

Zenith's eye twitched, irritation flashing through her. "Do you, now?" she muttered, "How can you? You don't know anything about me," she hissed.

Harsh ice met soothing blue, Alice regarding the other woman's sudden rage with nothing more than a small smile.

"You're right, I don't know much of anything. I don't know what has happened to you all these years, what has caused you to suffer so much, what has hurt you to the point that you'd rather stay in this room instead of walking out of it and healing, facing everything you've been avoiding." Alice gracefully crossed the room, her dress fluttering in the gentle breeze as sapphire pools followed her every step with curiosity.

Finally, she sat herself at the foot of the bed, blue orbs piercing through Zenith as Alice looked at her expectantly. "I don't know, but I'm not blind, and I can see when someone is trying to disappear." Her lips pressed together for a moment before she let out a quiet breath. "I've seen it before. People retreating into themselves, letting their pain fester because at least then it's familiar. At least then, they don't have to deal with the uncertainty of what's outside." Even though their eyes were locked together, Zenith could tell Alice's gaze was far past her, looking off somewhere in the past. After all, it was a look she had seen plenty of times in the mirror, something she tried her hardest to hide. "So you're right, I don't know, but I understand."

The words gave Zenith pause, her throat suddenly becoming dry as the sound of her own heartbeat loudly pounded within her ears. "What… do you mean by that?" The question came out barely a whisper, hesitation heavily laden within her voice.

"I'm a mother too, Zenith, and I've experienced my own fair share of tragedy. Whatever struggles you are going through, I assure you that there is no one in this village who can relate to you more than I can." Alice placed a hand on Zenith's shoulder, the contact making her flinch in surprise. "I may not know much right now, but only because you haven't told me anything."

The heat from the appendage was a soothing one, and Zenith couldn't quite find it within herself to pull away.

"You make it sound so simple, so easy," she murmured.

"Maybe you're afraid—" Zenith's head snapped towards Alice, lips pulled back in a threatening snarl as wrathful ice bore into her "—okay, okay, not afraid. Sorry, that was the wrong choice of words," Alice placated with a disarming smile.

Zenith held her gaze for a few more seconds more relaxing. "You're not entirely wrong—"

"But saying you're afraid diminishes the effort you've put in until now, doesn't it?" Alice finished.

Zenith blinked bemusedly at her, the woman's words cutting through her. "… I suppose it does."

The difference between knowing and understanding, Zenith reminded herself. It was something that Lilia, despite all their talks, had never quite realized. Neither had Paul, for that matter, and he had shared similar reservations as she did now when their child was first born.

It was no fault of either of them—Zenith wasn't able to truly resent them for something she could scarcely explain herself. Whatever mysteries and intricacies laid within her heart weren't something she could even properly enunciate to herself within her thoughts, never mind verbalize to another person.

Could this woman, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, truly understand her? Was she able to do something her confidant of several years and husband of even longer couldn't?

Alice hummed in response, her fingers giving the slightest squeeze against Zenith's shoulder before retreating. "You're still skeptical," she observed, her voice carrying no judgment, no pity, only quiet certainty.

Zenith exhaled slowly, raking a hand through her hair. "… Of course I am," she admitted. "You come into my home, sit by my bedside, and act like you understand me better than people who have known me for years. You're asking me to trust you despite the fact that we've only just met."

Alice tilted her head, the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on her lips. "I suppose that's reasonable. Trust isn't something that should be so easily handed over. I do wonder, though…" Alice leaned back, a finger touching her lips as the woman contemplated. "Is the worth of a relationship measured by time alone?" she asked after a moment.

Zenith frowned, a retort on her tongue but one that she herself couldn't even believe in. "No," she begrudgingly conceded.

The smile grew. "You know, I saw something quite extraordinary the other day. It was after your son saved my daughter the other day. He stopped by our house to drop Sylphiette off, making sure that she didn't run into any more trouble on the way home. Oh, before I forget—thank you, by the way."

"What for? I didn't do anything."

"For raising such a good son."

Zenith let out a scoff with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Spare me the flowers. He's always been like that."

Alice cocked her head questioningly, a knowing look on her face. "Perhaps, but nature and nurture go hand in hand, no? I can't imagine some of your kindness didn't rub off on him over the years."

Memories over the years raced through her head, all the interactions she had with her child permeating to the surface of her mind as she analyzed each scene.

Was Alice right? No, she couldn't be. Zenith knew that he had always been like this. In fact, it was one of the things she had tried to teach out of him.

But a small part of her, its whisper far louder than it had any right to be, couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was some merit to the woman's words.

Alice took the silence as her cue to continue, "I haven't known him for very long. In fact, we've only had two conversations so far, but I think even the densest person in the world can see that your son isn't the kind of person who opens up very easily, correct?"

Zenith stared at the woman before nodding once, an impatient glint in her eye.

"He's a strange one, I'll give him that. The difference between him and all the other children—no, everyone else—is clear as day. I've seen my fair share of broken children, but he is by far the worst case I've ever seen in my life. You can't miss the constantly haunted look in his eyes, as if he's constantly being chased by something. Or how everything he does seems just ever so slightly… forced, like a wagon being pulled by a horse that long since died. Or how his face is like broken glass—I look at him one moment and he seems fine, I shift a bit and I catch a glimpse of something that perhaps I shouldn't have."

"… Did you come here to just spout poetry at me?"

If Alice was bothered by the acidity in Zenith's voice, she gave no indication of it, the smile on her face remaining unperturbed. "Zenith, your son doesn't truly smile much, does he?"

Said woman's eyebrow rose. "Is that your grand observation? You said it yourself—anyone could've told you that."

Ocean blue glimmered. "Which made it all the more surprising when I finally did see it."

"… See what?"

"His smile. It's very beautiful, by the way."

A pregnant pause passed. "… It was…?"

"I believe he was reciprocating Sylphiette's gratitude from when he saved her."

A storm of emotions engulfed Zenith's heart, and the constant ache in her chest intensified.

Shirou's smile? Of course, she had seen him smile before. The boy was too polite and kind not to. Yet, in all the years she had raised him, his smile had never once reached his eyes. His smiles felt like a mask, a calculated maneuver that only deepened the dissonance within her.

Could she even dare to imagine a genuine smile on his face? She pictured the contours of his face stretching, his lips curving upwards, and the skin around his eyes crinkling with mirth as happiness shimmered within his emerald orbs.

Zenith's mind wandered through the tantalizing possibilities, each more elusive and enchanting than the last, leaving her heart aching with a blend of hope and uncertainty.

Or maybe—

Flames. Fire. Corpses piled high all around her. A vessel radiating death and evil morphing. A face so similar to her son's yet paradoxically far more different staring back at her.

The vision lasted only an instant, but the chills running down her spine lasted for far longer.

No, she couldn't quite imagine it.

"Well, that's good at least. I'm glad he found something to smile about."

Alice studied her expression for a few seconds, and it took Zenith a considerable amount of effort to not squirm under her stare. "You've never seen it before," the woman outright stated without a shadow of a doubt.

Ah, perhaps she was a poor actress.

"Yes," Zenith spoke plainly, her voice deadpan. "Go ahead and flaunt it if you want."

"Oh, no I'm not here to do that," Alice quickly said. "I had my suspicions, but still, I assure you I just wanted to make a point."

Whether or not her words were truthful, Zenith couldn't tell. What she did know is that the small flicker of irritation she had felt towards the woman was rapidly growing to bitter, smoldering embers. "Just get to it already." Icy mirrors bored into Alice, urging the woman to finally get to damn purpose of this conversation.

Alice stood up from her spot on the foot of Zenith's bed, the mattress slowly rising from where her weight had pressed it down. Each step towards Zenith was measured, deliberate, her skirts whispering against the wooden floor. She stopped just at her side, where the afternoon light streaming through the window caught her figure, casting the other woman in a dazzling spotlight of gold. Dust motes danced around her like tiny stars, stirred by each graceful movement of her body.

"Let me help you, Zenith." A small, pale hand was thrust in front of her face, slender fingers extended in invitation. "Not as someone who knows everything, but as someone who understands enough and wants to try."

Zenith stared at the offered hand, her own fingers twisting in her sweat-dampened sheets. The gesture was so simple, yet it carried a weight that made her chest constrict. From below, voices began to rise—a commotion that sparked her curiosity despite herself. Through the floorboards, she could feel the vibration of movement, the house itself seeming to pulse with life she'd been hiding from.

Alice's hand remained steady, waiting. The afternoon light caught her wedding ring, sending small rainbows dancing across the bed sheets between them. The gold band gleamed like a promise, reminding Zenith of her own ring, now sitting dull and untouched on her bedside table.

"You've fallen down," Alice suggested softly, her voice barely louder than the breeze stirring the curtains, "but it's only natural to get back up afterwards, right?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Zenith's gaze shifted from Alice's hand to her face, searching for any sign of judgment or pity. She found neither - only that same steady resolve, that quiet understanding that had somehow pierced through all her carefully constructed walls.

"Pointless," Zenith murmured quietly, but there was no heat behind the words, and the woman herself wasn't even sure if she believed in them.

Alice did not move, did not withdraw her hand, only giving her a crooked grin. "Then it shouldn't be a problem if we try anyway, right?"

Zenith studied the woman before her. The afternoon light caught Alice's hair like a halo, but it was the unwavering steadiness in her eyes that held Zenith's attention.

Here was someone offering help, real help, not just the well-meaning but ultimately helpless concern Lilia showed, or Paul's awkward attempts at comfort. And yet... Zenith had spent so long building these walls alone that the idea of letting someone else within them made her hesitate.

Her fingers twitched slightly, the smallest motion, as if testing the idea of reaching out before she fully committed. She let out a slow breath, sinking further into the pillows, allowing herself a moment of quiet contemplation.

"Earlier," Zenith said slowly, each word carefully chosen, like testing ice to see if it would break, "you said something about the worth of a relationship not being measured by time." She paused, watching Alice's expression. It wasn't a challenge, nor was it a rejection. It was an invitation. A final question, not meant to push Alice away, but to see if she truly understood the weight of what she was asking. "Tell me, Alice—in your eyes, what determines the weight of a relationship?"

The woman didn't hesitate. "Time isn't what makes a bond meaningful." Alice's smile widened, not in amusement, but in something knowing, something warm. Her voice was quiet, but there was a certainty in it that made Zenith's breath hitch. "When Shirou first helped Sylphiette, they'd known each other for less than an hour. Yet in that brief moment, he'd done something far more impactful than the time they spent together had any right to be." Her extended hand remained steady as she spoke. "The things we share, the way we impact each other, the moments that stay with us. That's what matters."

Zenith's fingers twisted in her sheets as she absorbed the words. They were good words, powerful words, and they struck something deep within her. Her eyes fell to Alice's still-outstretched hand, then back to that knowing gaze. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"… And you believe you can help me?"

Alice's response carried the same gentle certainty that had marked all her words, the same understanding that had somehow slipped past Zenith's defenses. "Our children showed me that was the case. Is there a reason why it can't apply to us as well?"

Zenith exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders loosening ever so slightly.

Maybe… just maybe…

"Why do you care?" The words came out sharper than intended, but Zenith didn't take them back. Her mind was still clouded with exhaustion, with lingering doubt and the weight of too many unanswered questions. "It's true that you might be able to help me, and I accept your wishes of wanting to do so despite our abrupt meeting. But still, why are you so determined to help me? What do you get out of this?"

Alice blinked once, then twice, and a playful glint shone within her eyes. "Of all the questions you've asked, this one is by far the easiest." The outstretched hand receded, a finger resting on her chin. "Our children get along quite well, and I think that it is in their best interest if we also keep things amicable between us. But to be frank, the biggest reason is …" Alice broke out into a large smile, and with the sunlight behind her, Zenith could've sworn she was looking at an angel. "It's—"

"—not wrong to help others."

The familiar words struck a chord within Zenith, hitting her with all the force of a spear being rammed through her chest.

Back then, it wasn't that she had disagreed with him. It was just that… it seemed so sad, as if he was trying to prove something.

Zenith stared at Alice. She knew that she had to keep trying, but when the crushing sensation of defeat was still so fresh, would anyone blame her for having just a bit of time for herself?

But this woman... this stranger who spoke of bonds and understanding with such conviction... Zenith could feel the remnants of her courage gather themselves again, and the weight on her shoulders seemed to be just a bit lighter.

A sudden burst of voices from below made them both pause. Something in the urgent tone made Zenith's heart skip. Then came the sound of Paul's voice, sharp with concern she'd never heard from him before: "Shirou!"

The screech of a chair being thrown back echoed through the floorboards, followed by the heavy thud of rushed footsteps.

Zenith's breath hitched, and her heart skipped several beats. Before she knew it, her feet had already carried her out of her bed in a frenzied rush, her body almost teleporting in front of the closed door of her room. A frail hand rested on the doorknob, and it was only the sudden realization of just exactly what she was doing and what it entailed that stopped her from pushing forward.

Fractions of a second later, Zenith bursted out the room. Despite having been bedridden for a few days, the ache in her weak muscles barely even registered as an afterthought. Right behind her, Alice also moved forward with similar urgency, the concerned frown on her face marring her beautiful features. From further down the hall, Lilia emerged from the storage room, raising an eyebrow at the two women in front of her while Sylphiette closely followed the maid with a confused yet curious expression.

They gathered at the top of the staircase, and Zenith almost stomped down the steps in her urgency. She made it down a few steps before the woman stopped dead in her tracks, the abruptness of it almost causing Alice to knock her over.

A stifling tension fell over the household. Every sound seemed magnified in that moment - the creak of floorboards beneath their feet, Alice's quiet gasp of surprise, Sylphiette's sympathetic whimper of distress, Lilia's sharp intake of breath.

Shirou was sitting at the end of the dining table, Paul knelt before him in a fatherly manner, his large frame bent with unusual gentleness. There were two other strangers, one she assumed to be Alice's husband, and the other the magician than Paul had mentioned before. However, Zenith regarded them with only passing glance, her focus squarely on the small child.

A single tear tracked down his cheek, catching the light like a diamond. His shoulders trembled slightly, though she could see him fighting for control even now. That desperate grip on composure, that eternal struggle to maintain his mask—it was all there, but for the first time, she could see what it cost him.

Shadows danced across the floor of the dining room, the afternoon light streaming through the windows. The scene had a certain ethereal likeness, almost like it was from a dream, and Zenith wondered if this was another nightmare disguised as reality. However, life always seemed to be stranger than fiction, and the scene Zenith had stumbled into was no exception. She stood frozen at the top of the staircase, one hand gripping the banister so tightly her knuckles whitened. The wood felt rough beneath her fingers, grounding her in a moment that otherwise felt surreal.

It was as if some cover over her eyes had finally been pulled, the light of revelation almost painfully blinding her to some truth she had been ignorant to all this time. For the first time, she saw past everything – past the force her dreams warned her about, past the cracked mask he wore, past her own fears and doubts. Her dreams had shown her many things—flames, death, despair, agony, monsters beyond her comprehension, flashes of lives she knew did not exist in this world, her son emerging from the filth and muck of darkness. However, she had never been shown this—the fragility of her son in full display, someone who was nothing more than a child in pain. Not a threat, not a mystery, not a force of nature. Just a little boy who, despite all his strength and all his strange abilities, was just that, a boy.

The maternal instinct to rush down and comfort her child warred with the paralyzing fear that had kept her isolated for so long. She was dimly aware of Sylphiette subconsciously pressing herself closer to her mother's side, the girl's eyes wide with concern for her friend. Even the normally stoic maid's composure had cracked, her professional expression replaced by a terse frown and half-lidded eyes.

The sight only lasted a brief moment before Paul's body moved and covered the scene, but for Zenith, it might as well have been stretched out to eternity, more than enough time for the image to sear itself into her mind, the storm of emotions within her branding themselves onto her soul.

"Mom, why is Shirou crying?" Sylphiette quietly asked, tugging on Alice's skirt. The little girl seemed distraught, and she looked like she was torn between racing down the stairs and remaining frozen in shock.

"I… I don't know…" Alice's uncertainty spoke volumes, and for once, the woman wasn't entirely sure what to say. However, she wasn't quite as immobilized in disbelief as the other women, and her eyes glinted with tinges of pity and sadness as the woman observed the child below.

"I must say: even for the young master, this is a surprising development," Lilia noted softly.

The comment, delivered in Lilia's typical understated manner, somehow broke whatever spell had held Zenith motionless. The world seemed to tilt beneath her, the staircase stretching impossibly long before her eyes. The churning in her chest intensified, shame, confusion, helplessness—each one crashing over her, pulling her under until she could do nothing but turn away and climb back up the stairs in silence.

She took one step back, then another. A part of her was screaming to go to him, to race down those stairs and gather her son in her arms. Yet her body betrayed her, moving away instead of forward.

"Lady Zenith?" Lilia's voice seemed to come from far away, but it couldn't quite disguise the confusion nor the slightest bit of judgement in the maid's tone.

Alice turned toward her. "Zenith—"

But she was already retreating, her fingers trailing along the wall for support. Memories over the years crashed into her with the force of a tidal wave, the story of her life in its entirety flashing through her mind in an instant, the weight of it all driving Zenith back towards her bedroom.

Why wasn't she happy?

Wasn't this what she had wanted?

She had done it. Finally, a crack in his carefully maintained facade, a singular teardrop escaping from the mask of stoicism and perfection. Even at birth, he had defied expectations—his first sound not a baby's cry but a name—someone else's name, not hers or Paul's.

In hindsight, perhaps she should have known then and there that it was merely the first sign that he was never hers to begin with, but that had never stopped her from trying all this time, the tenacity and perseverance that had served her well all these years something she was more than willing to pit against her own child, to reach out and grasp the dream of family she sought more than anything.

And just where had that left her? Burned and scarred.

But now she had taken the first step towards her victory, one mark against the countless that had been made against her.

So why did her heart weigh so heavily still?

Why did the victory she had worked so hard for ring so hollowly?

Guilt gripped her heart, her languid stride coming to a halt as she rounded into her bedroom. A feeble hand opened the door, and Zenith could hear some hushed whispering behind her, perhaps some directed towards her, but she paid them no need regardless, pushing through into her sanctuary and closing the entrance behind her. A few more swaying steps brought her to the foot of her bed, and the woman proceeded to collapse onto it, her face nuzzling into her sheets. However, what usually brought her a small modicum of comfort instead elicited nothing.

Zenith heard more hushed voices before the door creaked open, and familiar footsteps bound across the wooden flooring. Zenith made no attempt to acknowledge or greet the person, choosing to remain face-down on her bed.

The two remained silent for quite some time, time blending together for Zenith as she let the weight of her circumstances press down on her ribcage like a vice.

Of course, at some point, there was a need for action, and the feelings surging through Zenith's chest were suffocating.

"Tell me: how much of a failure am I?" Zenith flipped herself over, her eyes boring into the ceiling. She didn't need to confirm who the visitor was; the answer was painfully obvious.

"… I think you're being far too harsh on yourself."

Zenith frowned at the words. "Alice, I ran away. Just like before, I stepped back when I should've moved forward. He…" Zenith choked on something, the words stuck in her throat, but she forced them through regardless. "… He needed me there, and all I could do—all I've ever done—was run."

A pause. "Is that really what happened? Or did you see something that overwhelmed you—something you weren't prepared for?"

"What difference does it make? The result is the same. He needed me, and I wasn't there."

"… He's a special child. You're being unfair to yourself if you expect things to go perfectly."

Zenith let out a bitter chuckle. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, tracing the familiar patterns of wood grain she'd memorized during countless sleepless nights. "I failed the singular duty of a mother. A child cries, and a mother comforts. It's the most basic instinct, isn't it? And I couldn't even manage that. My own blood cried, and I sit here doing nothing but wallowing in self-pity."

"If you phrase everything like that, then I suppose you're right, and you really are a failure. Is that what you would have me do, Zenith? Would you prefer it if I scolded you? Would you like it if I said you ran away from your problems, how you failed when the one who needed you the most was right in front of you?"

Each word lanced through Zenith like a spear, and the woman could feel her anger spreading like flames, simmering at each accusation hurled at her. The blonde mother grit her teeth, her jaw clenched tightly as she focused on the unjustness of it all.

However, instead of letting it go, the woman instead let the emotions continue to permeate throughout her being. The agony was suffering, and Zenith felt like she was flagellating herself, the words echoing in her mind stinging as much as a real whip.

She let out an exhale. "… I think I would, actually." With the admission came clarity, something she sorely needed right now.

"… I suppose we all have our own answers." The voice almost sounded surprised.

Zenith turned her head slightly, finally looking at the other woman. Alice was leaning against the windowsill, a thoughtful expression on her face. The afternoon sun filtering through the window cast long shadows across the floor, serving only to further highlight the dark circles under Zenith's eyes and the sickly pallor of her skin that years of fitful sleep had caused.

"I'm not some princess that needs to be coddled. I'll take the truth, no matter what it is."

"Is that so?" Opposing blue met hers in an even stare, and after a few moments, a small smile blossomed on Alice's face. "I see. Sorry, looks like I misjudged you."

Zenith scoffed. "I don't need your pity."

"Not pity," the other woman shook her head. "It's just that some people respond different than others. Looks like you're the type of person who would rather face their problems head on." Zenith didn't disagree, and Alice took the opportunity to continue the conversation, "Tell me, when you looked downstairs, what did you see?"

Even though it had only occurred just a few minutes earlier, dredging through her memories felt like a herculean task. Her eyes fluttered, her hands tightening into fists as she summoned the courage to reflect upon the past. The world shifted around her, the familiar bedroom fading away to reveal the scene earlier, a lone child sitting on a chair.

The single tear tracking down her son's cheek, the slight tremor in his shoulders that he tried so hard to control, they stung as harshly as they did before, and Zenith averted her eyes with no small amount of shame. The way Paul had moved to comfort him while she had stood there, paralyzed by a wave of emotions she couldn't begin to untangle, brought with it pangs of jealousy and frustration.

However, parsing through the vivid memory, Zenith noticed details that, in her confusion and haste, she had not seen before.

Eyes were windows to the soul, an old expression that a poetically inclined individual had once said in a sudden rush of creativity. Zenith did not believe it was false, however, and it was here that the phrase proved its veracity.

Within the golden orbs of the small boy she called her son, she saw it clear as day: the quivering of his pupils at the shock of some realization, those same pupils narrowing into small dots, surprise turning into an ugly blend of anger and confusion, the most expressive she had ever seen him been.

And it was with that admission that Zenith could finally see the truth that had been hiding in plain sight all along.

"I... I never really knew him..."

The child she had given birth to, it was even more obvious that he had not been some blank slate for her to grow and nurture from the start. However, in her arrogance, she had disregarded that fact and instead continued steadfastly as she always wanted to do, blind to the consequences of her actions.

Her son had been fighting his own battles this entire time, battles she couldn't see because she'd been too focused on her idea of motherhood and the visions in her head. Whatever burdens he carried, whatever pain caused that tear to fall, he'd been shouldering them alone—maybe not because he was incapable or reluctant of sharing them, but because he felt he had no one he could turn to, no one who truly saw him as he was.

Her own nightmares had shown her fragments of what she feared he could become—visions of blackened flames consuming everything, of swords raining from the sky to skewer armies into bloody gravestones, of her son standing amid the devastation with empty eyes. But she realized now that she had let those dreams become a lens through which she viewed everything about him. She had been so fixated on preventing a future her dreams warned of that she had neglected the present that was right before her eyes.

Zenith's jaw clenched, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, grinding until she tasted blood. The sharp, metallic tang jolted her from the spiral of her thoughts. "I look at him and I see this… this incredible, impossible child. And I love him—I do. But sometimes…" She shook her head, voice faltering. "Sometimes I forget he's just a child. I see the things he can do, the way he speaks, and it's like… like he's something else entirely."

Her breath hitched. "And then I hate myself for even thinking that—because he's my son."

She covered her mouth as her voice cracked, tears spilling freely now.

"Today, I saw him crying, and all I could think was… I've failed him. I couldn't protect him from whatever it is that's hurting him. And I don't even know what it is."

Alice's gaze softened, and pushing herself off the windowsill, she sat down on the bed next to Zenith and placed a hand on her shoulder, reminiscent of their conversation earlier. "Zenith…"

Zenith shook her head, her voice rising in desperation. "I dream of him, Alice. They're not clear, but I can see and feel enough. Swords and fire and death, and Shirou is just in the middle of it all. They're not just nightmares. They feel... real. Like memories that haven't happened yet."

She glanced at Alice, expecting to see skepticism or confusion. Instead, she found only steady attention, the woman not denying her words as the ravings of delusion.

Alice pursed her lips in thought. "It's not uncommon for dreams to mean more than what they actually are. Receiving visions of the past or the future is not something truly out of this world, especially nowadays, but that doesn't really make the situation better, does it?"

"… No it doesn't."

Alice let out a contemplative hum. "Did I ever tell you what I did before Laws and I settled down here?" Zenith shook her head, and Alice continued, "I think I already told Shirou, but we were always on the run. It was hard to find a place to stay when we were constantly shunned away by everyone due to Laws's heritage. One of our longer stays was at Shirone. There, I helped run an orphanage, taking care of children that had nowhere else to go to and no one to depend on."

Zenith blinked. "Can't say I'm surprised. It suits you."

Alice smirked. "You think so? I don't disagree; I was certainly better at taking care of the children than the actual owner of the orphanage, though she was unnaturally savvy on the logistical side of matters." The woman chuckled at some untold memory before turning back to Zenith. "The place wasn't anything special, just a small building on the outskirts of the city, run by a few overworked caretakers doing their best with what little they had. Most of the children there were young, ones displaced by their homes being overrun by monsters, but we had some older ones as well, those who were still not quite old enough to try and make a living in the kingdom."

Zenith's stomach twisted. She knew where this was going.

"Of course, the goal had always been to try and find them better situations, a more permanent home than an ever-growing group of hungry and rowdy mouths. That was ultimately just wishful thinking. In the end, we could never actually manage to convince a family to take even one of them. Do you know why?"

Zenith swallowed, her throat tight. "Because they weren't easy."

Alice's lips curled into a jaded smile full of teeth. "Exactly. The owner once said they were 'broken goods'. Too much trouble. Too difficult to fix. They were children who already had families beforehand, mothers and fathers that had raised them from birth. That experience isn't something that can be easily erased, assuming the children were even willing to let that happen, of course. Considering how their old lives were ripped away from them, I wouldn't blame them."

Alice's eyes hardened, and Zenith felt herself shrinking in the woman's presence. "The owner never quite told me how she kept finding all these children. She often just disappeared for a day or two before showing up with a child. There were exceptions though, children who had managed to find us on their own, ones who had managed to survive in the wilderness and brave through battlefields to reach the orphanage. I don't think I need to tell you that kind of experience fundamentally changes a person, especially ones so young. While they're stronger because of it, I can't help but think they may have lost pieces of themselves on the way there."

"I'm guessing they were the hardest one to try and rehabilitate?"

Alice let out a bitter chuckle. "No one wants a child who couldn't fit seamlessly into their idea of a perfect little family. They didn't want the complications of a child who'd seen too much, who carried burdens they couldn't understand." A hint of frustration colored her words. "After all, if you had the power to choose, why wouldn't you make a choice that was better for you?"

Zenith let her lips split into her own cynical smile. "People want the gratification of doing good without the complications."

Human selfishness was something Zenith was more than familiar with, especially when it was cruelly disguised as genuine altruism. She had seen it in the noble houses of her youth, where charity was a performance to enhance reputation rather than a genuine desire to help. She had witnessed it among adventurers who claimed to protect villages while extracting exorbitant fees that left those same communities struggling. Even in her own family, where her parents' insistence that their rigid control was "for her own good" had eventually driven her away.

Of course, she couldn't completely fault them. After all, she had fallen into a similar trap. For all her judgment of others' false altruism, she had chosen the easier, more selfish path in raising her son, forcing her idea of motherhood over a child who could never be molded by it.

Zenith continued, "And you think Shirou is one of these children?"

Alice met Zenith's eyes directly, giving her a solemn nod. "Your son reminds me of them. Those children weren't broken. They had simply adapted to survive impossible circumstances. Their behaviors—the things that made others uncomfortable—were the very things that had kept them alive."

Zenith remained silent, letting the woman's words sink in. Her wisdom was useful, especially since Alice was able to put into words some of the feelings that eluded Zenith's grasp.

She had been with Shirou since birth. Whatever trauma had shaped him, whatever life-altering event had broken him, it couldn't have occurred under her watch—and yet the evidence of damage remained undeniable.

The answer lay somewhere between his strange behavior and her unsettling dreams, perhaps even connected to the mysterious changes rippling through the world itself. These were pieces of a puzzle scattered before her, clues to a mystery she hadn't chosen but was nonetheless hers to solve.

And the key to it all laid tantalizingly close to her. Her son knew more than he revealed—that much was obvious. Eventually, she would ask him directly. Despite everything, he possessed an odd, selective honesty. It had been one part consideration and two parts fear that had stopped her until now.

Those answers would come in time. But for now...

"I think… I finally understand what I have to do now." She sat back up, her body almost springing itself upright. Zenith raised her arms over her head, letting out a quiet moan as she felt her bones popping from her inactivity.

"Do you now?" Alice asked with a small smirk, warm eyes watching as Zenith quietly muttered a few words before being covered in a shower of golden motes. Almost immediately, color returned to her pale cheeks, the sickly pale complexion giving way to a healthy flush. The dark circles beneath her eyes lightened, then faded entirely. Her breathing, previously shallow and labored, deepened and steadied with each passing moment.

The persistent ache in her joints dissolved as the healing magic flowed through her limbs. Her muscles, weakened from days of disuse, firmed and strengthened. Even her hair seemed to regain its luster, the dull strands brightening as vitality returned to every cell. The illness that had given her an excuse to hide away broke completely, Zenith's body feeling lighter than it had ever been in years.

"I had enough moping around. It's time for me to actually do something worthwhile." Zenith stood back up, looking at Alice with a grateful and firm gaze. "Thank you. Your little pep talk is exactly what I needed."

Alice softly shook her head. "I helped, but I think you would have eventually broken through on your own. I can only give you ideas. It was up to you to know what to do with them."

The comment raised Zenith's spirits just a bit higher, but she made sure to reign herself in quickly.

"So, what's your plan now?" Alice asked.

"My mistake was forcing my own expectations onto him. Maybe at some point I can help him how I originally wanted, trying to gently steer him towards a better path, but right now, that's not what he wants or needs. Doing something without compromise won't work here."

Alice nodded thoughtfully. "I see. That's a good approach. The tree that bends in the storm is better than one that stands rigidly, as they say." She paused, her gaze drifting for a moment before returning to Zenith's face. "It won't be easy, but it sounds like you've thought this through." A pause, and then Alice continued, "Ultimately, you'll be the driving force behind this. No one can make your choices for you. Still, just remember that you're not alone. You have Paul, Lilia—"

"And you?" Zenith said with a small smile.

Alice's eyes glinted. "We're friends now, right?"

Zenith hummed. "I guess we are."

"One last piece of advice—I don't know much about your son or magic, but I do know this: he's not an ordinary child, and it's unlikely he ever will be. As for those dreams… I think they're definitely more than just simple dreams, probably signs of something greater. You should speak with someone more knowledgeable in such things—a high-level magician, or perhaps an expert in divination."

It was sound advice, one that came from a place of good intentions. "There's just one problem though: where can I find quickly someone like that?"

"I do believe that there is one such person right below our feet. You should introduce yourself to her anyway. I haven't seen much, but it sounds like Shirou and her took quite a liking to each other."

Ah, the mage that Paul mentioned. As for Alice's last comment, Zenith wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it, but she could definitely feel something complicated brewing within her chest.

"I'll keep that in mind."

Accepting Zenith's words, Alice made to leave the room. However, before she opened the door, the woman paused to look back, a sly grin on her face. "Of course, if you think you can't do all this, I wouldn't mind taking him off your hands. My family already owes him so much, and he seems comfortable with us. Sylphiette clearly adores him, so I doubt there would be any issues."

This time, Zenith could definitely define what exactly she was feeling, and her lips curled back into a snarl. "Funny. Weren't you about to leave?"

"Haha, sorry, I just had to try," Alice said, her hands raised in mock surrender. "That's a nice look on your face, by the way. Very fiery, it's a good change of pace. It's the look of someone who as an inkling of what she wants."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Zenith allowed herself to smile—a small, fragile thing, but genuine, nonetheless.

A/N: The first part of a two-part chapter. As promised, here is the conversation between Zenith and Alice that I talked about before. Don't worry, our protagonist is returning next chapter. It's actually already done. I'm just going to make some minor edits. It should be here next week.

Also in case you're confused about the flow of the chapter, Ch12 and 13 essentially occur in parallel. I wrote Alice and Sylphiette fucking off during the discussion downstairs last chapter and this is where they ended up. My only issue is that my excuse for Shirou not seeing Zenith and the others being Paul obscuring his vision feels a bit weak… Oh well, not important in the grand scheme of things.

Oh, also Alice's backstory is somewhat important and will be used to segue into more side characters later when I finally get around to writing those arcs… in like 100k more words…Probably more. Definitely more.

Hmm, yeah that's everything. This is the chapter that people who have been complaining about my treatment of Zenith has probably been waiting for. Alice and Zenith's relationship should probably not develop so quickly but I've explained before, I'm somewhat rushing things. Oh and speaking of Alice, for any concerns that she may be a mary-stu or whatnot, don't worry, I assure you that I know that concern. This role I gave her as always been something that I wanted to mesh well with Zenith. I've said it before but Zenith's previous pillars of support have always been supportive but not necessarily the most helpful. I've laid out the extremely obvious juxtaposition between the Greyrats and Sylphiette's family, so it hopefully makes sense that words from one mother to another are the ones that actually help Zenith the most. Still, don't worry, nothing much good ole-fashioned monster attacks can't fix. After all, Sylphiette hasn't suffered enough in my story yet ;)

And lastly, I keep getting comments that about my prologue and people just do not appreciate all the dialogue after people get stabbed in the chest. Saber makes sense since she's a servant with a magical body, but I suppose Sakura could use a proper excuse. Probably a healing factor, why not.

Okay that's all for me. Thank you for reading, DM me on discord if you have any questions, please consider leaving a favorite and review, and as always, have a good day.

P.S. One massive spoiler for an upcoming twist in this chapter. Buried behind a layer of poetry and metaphor but it's definitely there if you're looking for it.