...
It was then the girls saw one another, and the stranger's eyes began to well with tears, her breath catching at the sight of her.
"Athena."
'Oh shit.'
Long before she ever had the opportunity to process what had just happened, Chrysaor's hand flew out, grabbed the new girl by the collar and pulled her inside. In one, swift motion the door slammed shut and she was forced against the wall, his elbow pressing on her throat.
Monica began waving her arms erratically, "Hey! Stop that! Get off of her!"
"What? I thought you-"
"Dammit, Chrysaor, let her go!"
He did so immediately, backing up slowly with his hands in the air; eyes locked on his Master for his next command.
She fell off the wall, rubbing her throat and gasping for air on her knees. Monica ran over, kneeling down to pick her up. When the two girls met eyes, the older one's lips trembled as if she were the younger, and embraced the other so tightly that they could feel one another's heartbeats through their breasts.
Chrysaor looked on with a look that said more than words ever could. Confusion, concern, cold logic and hot passion danced across his pale face.
'Monica. Who is she?'
She looked up to him, gripping the girl tighter, 'She's my sister.'
He went alight with surprise, 'Your sister? Why is she here?'
'I have no idea.'
'Who is she? What's her name?'
Gloom settled on her face, 'That's a funny story, actually.'
One eyebrow raised.
'Her name is Monika.'
...
A memory came to her from years ago. So long it had nearly been forgotten.
Two girls played in a forest. The older of the two had just reached her preteens: a foolish age where young girls don the mantle of a training bra, the crown of eyeliner and the scepter of nail polish, all the while believing that she had achieved the throne of womanhood when her journey there had only just begun. As if to show just how vain these plays at maturity were, she was putting her girlishness on full display: crouching over a lone white flower and daintily tapping at it, as if a fish investing a hook cast into her pond.
Behind her was another girl, equally blonde and five years her junior, her skin was coated with dirt and she was climbing a tree with the apparent expertise children so often have. She went no lower than ten feet up, found a branch that extended out, and another which would allow her to brace herself as she carelessly walked out on the limb.
"Monika, Monika! Look, look!"
As soon as the older girl turned around, the younger began to bounce up and down, pushing the limb as far as she could make it go before it flung her back up.
"Look! I'm a monkey! Ooh-ooh-ah-ah!"
"Athena!" The girl, imitating her mother, stood up and crossed her arms, "Get down from there right now! You're gonna hurt yourself!"
"No I'm not! I'm a monkey, remember? Ooh-ooh ah-WAGH!"
Her soft hands slipped from where she was holding on as her feet lifted up and off the branch, sending her falling backwards. The older sister, Monika, saw what has happening and threw herself to the other side of the tree, arms outstretched to catch her, but was not ready for the force and weight. Together they both fell to the ground; dirt and leaves catching in their long, blonde hair that tangled and mixed together on the forest floor.
Monika recovered first.
"Ugh!" She spit dirt from her mouth, "Look what you did! I told you! Now I'm all dirty."
Athena rose up with puffy, indignant cheeks, "It's not my fault! What'd you get under me for!?"
"I was trying to catch you, you baby."
The redness of anger was replaced with a different blush, "You were?"
"Yeah. But it seems you're a bigger girl than I thought."
Monika managed a sisterly smile. The girls' indignancy had been learned from their parents, but the smiling they had learned on their own.
The significance dawning on her, Athena kissed her sister on the cheek and snuggled into her chest even as they laid in the dirt. She didn't mind the grit half as much as her older sister did.
"Hey. When we're big enough, let's get married."
"What!? We can't get married!"
The puffy cheeks returned, "Why not!? Isn't that what you do when you love someone?"
"You're such a baby. Girls can't get married, and neither can siblings."
"Why not?"
"You'll understand it when you're older; when you're an adult like me."
She stuck out her tongue in defiance, "But I don't wanna marry a boy! Boys are gross! And I want to be with you forever!"
Monika jumped up and gave her a peck on the nose, "We don't need to get married because we're already gonna be together forever. Because we're sisters."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
...
Chrysaor was so surprised that he couldn't help but speak aloud, "Monika?"
Both girls turned to look at him with wet eyes.
"Oh boy..." He ran a hand through his hair, "This is going to be confusing. So-" He turned to his Master, "What is your name, then?"
Monika looked at her sister, puzzled, "Athena?"
Before she could say anything, Chrysaor spoke up, "Wait- are you-?"
"Saber. I can't deal with your man-out-of-time nonsense right now. Can we just... have a moment?"
"Of course..." He slowly removed himself, picking up the dropped bag and maneuvering around to the other side of the room, and finishing his sentence through telepathy, '-but I won't go far. This is all a bit too convenient.'
'Of course.' was what she said, but it was the furthest thing from how she felt. The nearly-lost memory was from a time not long before she had sworn she'd lost her sister forever. Monika, on her twelfth birthday, had been sent away to boarding school, and the two never saw each other again after that. At some point, the resentment she felt towards her parents had projected onto her sister, with no option in her adolescent mind except that Monika had been of the same cold mindset as her parents, and any memories which spoke to the contrary were disregarded as nothing but childish delusions.
Never had she imagined that her sister may have genuinely loved her, and been beholden to factors beyond her control. It all seemed too good to be true.
With reasonable doubts springing in her mind she pushed Monika away, looking her in the eye.
"Wh- Why are you here? Where have you been?" The context of the war rose in her mind, "Wait a minute- why are you here!?"
Monika collected herself.
"I know all about the war. I've come to get you out of here. There's no time. There's going to be a big battle tonight and we need to go." She gave her a solid pat on the shoulder, "C'mon. Get packing. There's no time to explain."
"I-I don't think you understand."
"What? What don't I understand?"
"I'm a Master."
"I know. But you don't have to be. We can go."
There was an out? There was an escape? She didn't have to fight anymore?
"Monika... I can't. I shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because-!" She couldn't put into words, "I have something I want! I have something to fight for!"
"Athena! Please believe me, I know someone who's fought in a Grail War before, it isn't worth it! There's going to be a massive battle tonight and I don't think anyone can escape it! Did you know about that?"
Chrysaor spoke up, "I did. We haven't discussed our plans yet."
"Good. That's good."
She looked to her sister, to the girl called both Monica and Athena, "Then I can sit in on these plans. I can give you more options, and my two cents. I can explain everything. Please. Won't you at least listen?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..Sure," She finally managed. "Let's talk."
...
Above the sky of Athens, Aaron laid on his back, tired eyes closed to the sun overhead. He pretended he was out on the open ocean, letting the soft humming of the wood under him lure him into a state frustratingly close to sleep; tantalizing him with relief it never fully offered. What made it worse was the cravings. He wanted a cigarette so badly, and having nothing to do only made that withdrawal worse. What he wouldn't have done for a smoke then, if only to take some of the anxiety from his heart.
Rider was in Spirit Form. After so much time, Aaron was finally beginning to pick up on the idea that he didn't actually like flying like this. He was so stoic that he hid it like a professional actor, but the change in demeanor when they flew above the clouds was becoming more obvious with time.
"Rider." He couldn't take it anymore, "Do you think we made a mistake telling MacMannan about Saber and his Master?"
The voice echoed back into his head, 'Why should it be a mistake?'
"I dunno. What did he even have in mind? It just seemed so random."
'Verily, but, in truth, I think this more a cause for relief than concern. We, those who fight for the Grail, mean her harm, but those outside have little reason. Perhaps, even, it could be her salvation.'
"Ugh. I hope so. I'd hate for them to join the battle tonight."
'And why would that be?'
"Because-" He took a deep breath, "I'm sick of dragging people into my problems. I just wanna handle this on my own."
There was a long pause, and he felt Rider's stare even as he had no eyes to stare with
'And when, pray tell, did thee come to understand that Berserker was thine own burden to bear?'
"I don't know." He sat up, "I'm sick of this. I don't want good people to get hurt anymore. Besides, weren't you the one who said that it was men who went to battle so women didn't have to?"
A grieved hand fell on his shoulder from behind as Rider manifested, "Thee speak truly. However, 'tis not thine choice to make. And, if I may be so bold, I dare to say that in the coming battle we shall need all the help we may ask for, woman or no. Peace, Master. Do not let the freedom of another oppress thee. Rest, for none but Fate knows whence thou shalt sleep again, if ever."
At that, Rider manifested a cloth pillow from, presumably, his war rations, and thrust it into Aaron's chest.
"Peace. Rest. Consider it an order."
He left to the far side of the ship, gazing out over the horizon.
"Rider. Why are you so kind to me? What did I do to deserve it?"
"Hoh?" He turned, his masked face belying the teasing in his tone, "Where is the young rascal who dared to call himself my Master? Hast some tragedy befallen him? Hast he perished in holy war? Where has he gone, and who is this sniveling child he hath left behind? The son of some forsaken whore, no doubt, for none else t'would be fit for such a miscreant as he."
"I'm serious. Tell me."
"Should a Servant not serve his Master? Thee speak naught but nonsense."
"So I don't deserve it? That's what you're saying, right?"
"Deserve this, deserve that. What a foolish question. Who in this world receives what he deserves? I do not recall ever living in a world so just as that. Some receive gifts who are owed a swift death, and 'tis more often that death is given to those who most deserve a blessed life. If I hath truly been such a blessing to thee, then I hath done my duty. And if such a gift should trouble thee on account of thine past-accrued guilts, then I charge thee: become innocent once more. If thoust art truly troubled in thinking that such a man as thyself doth not deserve such a thing, then the simplest solution is to become such a man that doth."
He had never thought of that before.
"Huh. Thanks."
"Enough. Sleep."
He patted the pillow and laid there, consenting to his own exhaustion.
He wanted a cigarette.
....