A sea of gold was spread out before her.
She floated through, weightless and drifting, only half awake.
Each droplet was like a star, a piece of glittering gold more brilliant and pure than any she'd seen. She felt it tickle her skin, and envelop her body like a friend, or, perhaps, even more than a friend. She was lost, and only half-aware of her own existence, but she was comfortable, and felt at home.
It was here she noticed a shadow far above, far beyond the sea of glittering, golden stars. A masculine figure that stared down into the safety of her sanctuary. Her tranquility, her peace, was violated, and she felt her being begin to rise in rebellion, panic as her home threatened to collapse. She froze in her fear, staring with wide eyes at the figure beyond the pale, waiting, but for what she didn't know.
Her panic proved justified when the figure raised his arm, the shadow of his sword piercing the sea.
She panicked. She flailed about in the waters, trying to find some safety, but it was all in vain. She couldn't take her eyes off the blade which was raised far above her, and watched helplessly as it fell towards her...
....
9:40 am, Glyfada, Monica's Apartment
She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. It had been a long time since she had anything resembling a nightmare, though she supposed it wasn't quite a nightmare exactly, just... strange. More often than not, she forgot her dreams the moment she woke up, if not soon after, but the image of the golden sea, and the shadow that pierced its depths stuck in her mind, even as she tried to cling to reality.
But reality, as they say, is often as strange as fiction.
As she tried to claw her way out of the strange dream that seemed to try and call her back to sleep, she began to notice odd things around her, though, more specifically, about herself.
Her room was as it should've been, but she was still in her clothes, the same clothes she had worn the previous day. She could still feel the bits of sweat from when she'd been running around the city with Chrysaor, and the way her hair stuck to her head meant that she hadn't taken a shower either.
Memories of the previous day flooded into her mind: walking around the city with Chrysaor, going from chapel to chapel before hurrying home aboard the subway, and...
Assassin.
Assassin attacked. They ran through the city, chased by her, and then...
She saw herself in the glass, her glowing golden eyes, and the beautiful sword in her hand.
She needed to talk to Chrysaor.
She pushed herself off the bed, her sore body rejected the movement, but she pushed through in spite of it, moving as much she could towards the door- and stopped.
She could hear the TV running from the other room. She never showed Chrysaor how to use the TV, and wasn't quite sure whether to be impressed or concerned. Nevertheless, she continued out the door and into the living room. Before she saw Chrysaor, she saw what was playing on the television, a news station. As she walked out, the footage cut away from the buxom newscaster to the scene of the crime.
It was impossible not to hold her breath.
The diner, the overlook that she and Chrysaor had sat on just the day before, was gone. Not destroyed, not damaged- gone, reduced to indistinguishable rubble. Bits of iron bar from the railing were scattered across the rock and pavement, decorating the amphitheater below. The Grecian flag which flew there could be seen caught in the seats.
Then it cut to the parking lot. The pavement was torn to shreds, as bad if not worse than the remains of the diner and chapel. Large gashes tore through the parking lot, rocks and rubble cast all about the area.
Then it cut to the Acropolis. The marble gate which stood at the entrance to the flat top of the mountain was gone as well, the columns and marble stones littering the paths and stairways that led up to the top.
The woman- the newscaster- spoke of a potential terrorist attack. Of bombs planted at both the entrance to the Parthenon and the Chapel of Saint George. She described how both the Hellenic Police and Interpol were already getting involved, and were working together to investigate- speaking of the difficulty of the task given the heavy foot traffic of both these areas.
"Pretty crazy, right?"
Without realizing, she'd walked all the way into the living room, so distracted by the TV that she'd failed to notice Chrysaor's prying eyes.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. But it wasn't really a terrorist, was it?"
He cocked his chin slightly, "What makes you think that?"
She began to move around the coffee table, pacing to the other side of the couch that Saber was sitting on, "Well, that was why you wanted to get out of there so quickly yesterday, right? The danger. I'm pretty sure you even mentioned that it was the perfect place for a fight between Servants."
She sat down next to Chrysaor on the couch, leaning forward towards the television, "I mean, that's a whole lot more than what Assassin could do, but you even mentioned that she would've been the weakest in direct combat. What else could it be, really?"
Despite her words, her eyes were pleading with him to offer another explanation.
-But he wasn't looking at her, he was still looking at the TV. Hearing the seriousness of his Master's voice, he reached for the remote and turned it off before turning back to her.
"Could be anything, you know? Stranger things have happened. But, more importantly, how are you doing? You were pretty out of it last night."
She noticed how he changed the subject, but allowed the switch, if only for her own anxiety on the subject. "Yeah, I'm fine- I guess. I couldn't remember much at first, but I think it's all coming back now."
She touched her forehead and probed her mind, recalling the events of the previous night, the fight with Assassin, and-
"Holy shit! That's right!" She turned to him with elation, "You turned into a sword! The hell was that about!?"
He looked away with a forced smile, "Ah.... That."
"Yeah! That!"
"Eh... It's a long story."
She folded her arms, "We have time."
He raised his hand to pause her, "Really, it's not a big deal."
"Well I think it is. Start talking."
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, "... Are you familiar with the story of my birth?"
She was taken aback, she hadn't guessed the explanation would've gone back that far, "Uh, yeah. When Medusa died, her blood flowed into the ocean, creating the winged horse Pegasus, and you."
He smiled slightly, "Ah, I thought you said you'd never heard of me?"
She blushed and looked away, a forced smile hiding her embarrassment, "I- may have done some research."
He chuckled to himself, "That's fine. Does that mean you're familiar with my mother as well?"
"She was cursed.. right? She became a monster and was later killed by..."
"-Perseus."
"-Yeah."
He looked off into an imaginary distance, "She was a goddess, cursed to become a monster. After she was cursed, she and her sisters fled to the Shapeless Isle, a hidden island, and lived there for many years. But her curse began to progress, and she would eventually lose her sanity. In her madness, she devoured her two sisters, becoming the Demon Goddess Gorgon."
She shuddered at that. It was hard to comprehend the tragedy of those words, even with the brevity he told them with.
He continued, "The hero Perseus would eventually come to that island. He defeated my- ahem- Gorgon, and cut off her head. From her body and head, her blood flowed into the sea. Her demonic nature and her divine nature, natural opposites that they were, separated themselves in the water. Her demonic aspect became my brother, Pegasus, and her divine aspect became Chrysaor, me."
She was at a loss for words. "Wow. That's.... a lot, but what does that have to do with being a sword?"
He smiled his somber smile and looked down at his open hand, "My nature, my being, my body is made from the Divinity that flows through me. When I'm like this-" He gestured to himself, "The Divinity flows through my body like an open current, but what happens when I close that current; what happens when I stop that flow?"
"Oh."
"Exactly. My Divinity crystallizes; it solidifies and becomes something different."
Her mind worked to comprehend the metaphysics of it- or maybe this was just normal physics? "So- when you're 'you', the energy that makes up your body is moving around, but you can freeze it, and bring it all together."
He thought about it, "I suppose-"
"Oh!" She brought her fist down on her palm, "It's like a balloon!"
"Huh?"
She smiled with girlish glee, excited to show off her revelation, "Balloons are really small and tiny, but then you can fill them up with air. There's just as much 'balloon' as there always was, but it looks bigger because you've expanded what's there. You're a sword, really, but you can blow yourself up and become- 'you'!"
It was his turn to be at a loss, "Uh- yeah, sure. That works."
She giggled to herself, amused by her own childish analogy, before the seriousness of her inquiry fell back onto her shoulders, "But that's not all, right?"
He nodded. "Yes and no... Actually, your balloon analogy works really well here."
She raised her head in surprise, "Really?"
It suddenly occurred to her how paternal his somber smile was. His face was so young that she hadn't registered it before, but she realized that he seemed to find some form of happiness in her, though it wasn't clear if it was one born from genuine interest and affection or from amusement at her ignorance.
"So, let's say that, right now, I'm an inflated balloon. What happens when you push in on it while it's inflated?"
"Oh. Um... that would depend on the pressure you put on it right? It could pop, but, if you didn't tie it well enough, air could just leak out instead."
"Right. When I'm in that form, the divinity is collapsed into a single form, but that leaves the rest of 'me' looking for somewhere to go. The pressure is built, and it wants somewhere to flow into." His smile fell, "In other words, when someone wields that sword, what's left of 'me' goes into them."
Her brow furrowed slightly, not in confusion, not in anger, but in contemplation. She remembered the clashing tides, the feeling that, somehow, there was another 'self', another will other than her own. She remembered how this will had quelled her fear, and guided her body through swipe and parry; it guided her senses and her conscience towards where they needed to be, it was how she knew without knowing, and felt without feeling.
Another memory. Golden eyes staring back at her from the store window.
"That's how I was able to fight Assassin."
He nodded, "One reason."
She ignored the subtle implication of a compliment, "Yeah, yeah- that makes sense."
He looked away from her and ran his hand through his hair, "Sorry for the abruptness back then. I couldn't think of anything else, and it seemed like an explanation would probably just complicate things."
She bit the inside of her lip, "Well, you're probably right about that. I would've just overthought things and gotten stressed out. Things went well because I wasn't aware of what was really happening, and could just focus on what was important. That said-"
She flicked him on the forehead, "Tell me things. You're supposed to protect me aren't you? How am I supposed to make good decisions if I don't know what's really happening?"
He rubbed his forehead, "I'm just trying to protect you. But... I'll try to be more open."
That was a lie; she could hear it in his voice. Though his sentiment was genuine, the excuse he gave, the tone, and the word 'try' all signaled that he wasn't serious about it. She was going to have to be more pointed in her questions from here on.
Setting her budding frustration aside, she probed further, "So, is that how we'll be fighting from here on? It seemed to work pretty well, thoug-"
"No. Absolutely not."
"-What? Why?"
"I can't protect you like that. It was a necessity then, but we shouldn't if we don't have to."
"What do you mean 'you can't protect me'?"
He looked away again, "I'm not conscious when I'm in that form. I can't think, only react. Besides that, it puts you in direct danger. It was practical against Assassin, but, against any other Servant, it would just put you in the line of fire."
"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration. I mean, it seems like I would be better protected that way; especially with the shield involved."
He looked up with wide eyes, "Shield?"
"Yes?"
His face fell into his hands.
"Wait, what's going on? What's the problem with the shield?"
He shook his head, "I can't remember the last time someone was able to manifest the shield. No... wait.... yes I can. It was a long time ago."
She couldn't wrap her head around his meaning, "What are you talking about? What is this about the shield?"
He rose, and his eyes appeared tired, more than normal, "No, we can't do that again."
She wanted to keep pressing him, but his attitude, the sudden shift in demeanor was enough to dissuade her. She had touched a sore spot for him, what it was she couldn't possibly know, but she knew enough to stop.
-For now, anyway. This boy, this man even, was a mystery that demanded to be solved. As much as she knew she ought not to, she couldn't keep herself from being drawn into his ocean eyes, into his inner world which seemed much more blue than pink...
....