Author's Note: This is a very loose sequel to one of my other stories, "Fixed in the Stars", and it certainly doesn't need to be read before this one. If you have read the previous work, you may notice a considerable tonal divergence between the two. That's what happens when you're a hack writer who begins what you meant as a silly piece, and it runs away from you entirely.

"It is good that Chaldea's systems are designed so sensibly." declared Ereshkigal, holding her head up at what she hoped was a suitably haughty angle. "All doors should open before a goddess!"

Of course she had been pleased when the door to her obnoxious sibling's quarters had slid open at her merest touch, nevermind the trembling in her legs. It was the natural result of her divine authority. It would certainly extend to any other location in the facility she might care to visit.

She paused on the threshold, breathing in the cloying scent of pomegranate blossoms that floated from the room beyond. Then she hung her head and groaned.

"It's because we have such similar Saint Graphs, isn't it?" she sighed. "Both our graphs and our host bodies."

While undeniably convenient, it was also intensely aggravating that the system had confused her with the other goddess. It felt too much like Ishtar overshadowing her again. And maybe she always would, because as arrogant and difficult as her sister could be, she was also cheerful and confident. Above all, she was entirely comfortable in her own skin. Surely Ishtar never felt the need to practice her introductions in front of a mirror, nor fumbled for words when the red archer brought her tea. It was a trait that Ereshkigal couldn't help but admire. Even envy, a little bit.

Ereshkigal shook her head. "Keep your eye on the prize, Ereshkigal!" she chided herself. "Just walk in and grab the tablet, and then you can make divine wine for Master. In and out, before Ishtar even notices. You won't have to deal with her at all."

She brushed aside the odd clenching in her heart as she stepped into the room. Ishtar had maintained her taste for luxuries, judging from how she had arranged her quarters. Ereshkigal shook her head as she let her eyes sweep the room, taking in ornate furnishings and golden braziers, silk pillows and bowls piled high with decadent fruit. But no tablet in sight, let alone the one she sought. Ereshkigal sighed. Of course she wouldn't have the decency to make this easy on me.

Admittedly she was here to steal that tablet, but Ereshkigal refused to feel bad about that. Because unlike her sister, who stole everything that wasn't nailed down to satisfy her selfish whims, Ereshkigal was doing this for Ritsuka. Her precious long-suffering Master, who travelled without complaint through the most grueling of singularities; who smiled through even shattered limbs and soul-tearing losses.

Who smiled even at the fearsome goddess watching from her lonely throne, desperately wishing she could come along, she reflected with a small smile. She reached her hand out to me, knowing who I was, and brought me to Chaldea. I have to repay that kindness somehow.

For all her kindness, her Master deserved the very best. That was why Ereshkigal was going to treat her to ancient Babylon's divine pomegranate wine. Sweet and crisp as the fruits of heaven, it was beloved by gods and demons alike. Even the proud Gilgamesh conceded it as "acceptable".

There was only one problem. To properly ferment the fruit, she needed the essence locked away in the Red Blossom Tablet, a priceless artifact from her homeland. And of course the tablet belonged to Ishtar. Why wouldn't it? thought Ereshkigal bitterly. She got everything else, too. Father always spoiled her rotten.

Brushing away the rich scents of summer sunlight and blossoms that permeated the room, she set to rummaging through her sister's possessions. She opened gilded drawers and lifted up crimson drapes to check the recesses, sighing all the while. Tedious as this was, it was still better than asking her obnoxious sibling to borrow the tablet, a notion that filled her mouth with bile. She did not want to put up with Ishtar boasting and preening over it. No, let her have a taste of her own medicine this time. She can't complain, not after everything she's done!

Ereshkigal took a few deep breaths to calm herself before resuming her search. Her fingers grazed over chests of jewels and silken clothes, as well as shining blades and monstrous skulls with twisted horns, mementoes from Ishtar's various battles. All of it manageable, until she came across the jar of brilliantly coloured feathers.

She was back in the Underworld, watching enviously through her mirror as Ishtar whooped and soared through the air, following the flocks of Anzu birds. Occasionally she would swoop to catch one of their storm-feathers, flashing silver and electric blue, as they came loose from beating wings.

Ereshkigal felt her envy flare, heavy and leaden in her breast. As pretty as Ishtar's mantles and jewels might be, none were as precious as the freedom her sister enjoyed as Goddess of the Heavens. How many centuries had Ereshkigal watched, cold and alone on her gloomy throne, as her sister travelled the world, drank with other gods, walked freely among humans, played with creatures rare and wonderful? All the things eternally denied to the Queen of Underworld, chained to her grim duty almost as soon as she was born.

Even now, her heart clenched every time she saw Maana, the glorious Boat of Heaven that carried her sister on winds of gold and lapis lazuli. What might she have given, to have the chance to drive it herself, strike out to whatever place she wanted to explore? But even more than that…

(If I could have chosen anything, I wished you would offer me your hand and pull me up beside you. So that we could ride among the stars together).

And the worst part, the salt viciously rubbed in Ereshkigal's emotional wounds, was that Ishtar had still been greedy for more. She'd had the arrogance, the utter gall, to crash down to Kur and try to steal Ereshkigal's kingdom out from under her. The old outrage boiled in her throat, and with it, the black choking fumes of betrayal.

(Because she had been delighted that somebody—better, her sister!—was visiting her. The gloomy underworld had little to offer, but she had prepared her best anyway.)

And then Ishtar had appeared at the first gate, clad in mantles and jewels that were more weapons than adornments. Girded for war. Although the other goddess had promised Ereshkigal nothing, it was still a jagged javelin to her heart. And in that ragged hole there grew rage, as bitterly cold as the underworld wastes.

(I wanted you to come for me! Visit me, talk to me, take me with you! But no, you only cared about your next conquest. You only ever cared for yourself. You never—)

"You never thought of me."

Ereshkigal sighed and let herself collapse onto the bed, pressing down on wine-red sheets and plump pillows. Her sister might notice the rumpling later, but right now she didn't care. It was soft and comfortable against her back, and she needed a moment to settle herself. It would have been even better if the coverings didn't smell of her—sunlight and wind and ripe fruit—but she would take what she could get.

She idly raised her head and found her eyes drawn to the night table, blinking when she found the customary pile of gemstones had been replaced with a vase of moon-white lilies. They looked almost fragile amongst all the pomp surrounding them, completely outside her sister's usual tastes, yet they occupied pride of place on the golden surface.

No doubt a gift from Astraea, thought Ereshkigal, thinking of her sister's latest and unlikely paramour. The Goddess of the Scales was a lioness spun from starshine, with her mane of tumbling gold and her fierce amber eyes. Strong, beautiful, and with enough pride to blind the sun. Exactly the kind of lover that Ishtar recklessly wooed, then used and abused before tossing them aside in the past.

But something had changed in her sister since her arrival in Chaldea. For all her quarrels and duels with Astraea, Ishtar seemed to grow more besotted with her by the day. It wasn't uncommon to see her floating behind the Ruler after one of their fights, smiling and whispering things in her ear that probably didn't bear thinking about.

And while that could still be explained as an unusually long-lasting infatuation, the same could not be said for the way Ishtar treated their Master and increasingly their fellow Servants. Cold arrogance had given way to cheerful boasting, cruel words to sly teasing. It was doubtless the influence of her host, but Ereshkigal liked to think some of it was Ishtar herself finally mellowing as well. For after all, letting oneself be influenced at all was a concession for any goddess.

She smiled as she ran a finger along the lilies, enjoying the velvety softness of the petals. Even my spoiled little sister can change, a little, she thought to herself, and that means I can change too. I don't have to be the terrible Queen of Kur here. I can be someone that Master is proud of.

Encouraged by a vision of Ritsuka's grateful smile as she was presented with a golden flask of wine, Ereshkigal resumed her search. Not long after, she found the red tablet at the bottom of a trunk full of books and scrolls. Of course her obnoxious sibling had conspired to be even more insufferable by putting something away properly for once. Or perhaps it was the influence of her host, Ereshkigal allowed. She knew that hers was the organized sort as well.

She smiled triumphantly to herself as she ran her fingers along the rough surface of the clay, tracing the spells meticulously inscribed in the ancient languages. A successful quest, she nodded to herself in satisfaction. She carefully wrapped the tablet in her cloak and turned to go.

Ever since her summoning, Ereshkigal had a vague sense from her host of being afflicted by some sort of curse, a way of pulling defeat from the very jaws of victory. And maybe there was some truth to that impression after all, because at that same moment, the door hissed open and Ishtar floated in.

She looked genuinely surprised to see Ereshkigal, crimson eyes widening as her body gave a small jerk in the air. They stared at each other for a moment, an uncomfortable tension weighing heavily between them, before Ishtar gave a curt nod. Ereshkigal bit back a curse as she felt the wire of her unease pull her body rigid, a red flush threatening to overtake her face.

"Ereshkigal."

"S-Sister," said Ereshkigal, lifting her head proudly as befitted a queen, her hands tightening around her prize. Nevermind that she had been caught red-handed trespassing in the other goddess' territory; a goddess never apologized for going where she wanted. Hadn't Ishtar herself taught her that?

So she only smiled thinly as she nodded in return. "I shall be on my way now."

"Oh? But I've just come back," smirked Ishtar, twirling a raven lock around her forefinger as she considered. "And if you've come here to my room, it's because you wanted to see me, right? No shame, everyone does!"

She proudly lifted her raven hair, letting it tumble down her slender shoulders. Her red eyes gleamed as brightly as her golden ornaments as she grinned at her sister

"Certainly not," said Ereshkigal coolly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Weren't you supposed to be out chasing dragons with Astraea?"

And using very expensive Rayshift technology for your selfish fancies, she frowned inwardly. I've heard Da Vinci complain about how much each shift costs. But you don't have the slightest bit of shame about that.

And indeed, Ishtar threw back her head and laughed merrily as she did a pleased pirouette. "Ahahaha! Well, things may have gotten a little out of hand when we turned it into a contest. That drillhead's going to be insufferable until I even the score."

She glowered for a moment, but not without a certain affection. Again something lurched unpleasantly in Ereshkigal's chest, and again she pushed away the meaningless feeling.

"Well," said Ishtar eventually, "the end result is we ended up getting back earlier than expected." She smirked as she floated closer, flying lazy circles around Ereshkigal's head. "Why, could it be you're up to something naughty? Something unbefitting a goddess?"

"N-no! What are you insinuating?" She fought down the flush rising to her cheeks, opting instead to glare at the other goddess. But it had little effect—Ishtar drifted by closer than ever, arching one elegant brow at the bulge under Ereshkigal's cloak.

"Is that my Red Blossom Tablet?" she asked, red eyes gleaming. "Are you stealing from me?" But Ishtar didn't seem angry. If anything, there was approval in the crook of her smile.

"I'm borrowing it," said Ereshkigal loftily, shifting the tablet so that she was carrying it defensively against her chest. "Although if I were stealing it, you of all people could not complain." Ignoring the outrage that flashed across her sister's face, she tilted her chin defiantly. "I'm going to make wine for Master."

"Really now." Ishtar was hovering over her right shoulder now, so close she could feel her warm breath against her ear. Her lips were drawn back in a sly smile. "Wine-making involves fermentation, which means growing life." She waved a hand at Ereshkigal's choker, with its golden skull pendant resting just below her throat. "Can a goddess of death do that much?"

"I can!" said Ereshkigal, pulling the tablet more tightly to herself. Nevermind that she had been plagued by that very doubt. "I absolutely can!"

Ishtar drifted forward, brushing past her with a soft whisper of black hair against the crimson of her cloak. She turned and considered Ereshkigal for a long moment, her expression uncharacteristically serious. Just as the underworld queen was opening her mouth to say something, she wasn't quite sure what, Ishtar closed her eyes and sighed.

"Hmph! I guess it can't be helped then. I'll lend you my treasure to brighten up your dismal life a little." Her eyes snapped open as she pointed imperiously towards Ereshkigal. "But return it without fail! As the Queen of Heaven, all riches flow to me, understand? Not the other way around!"

Ereshkigal blinked as her sister's words registered. It can't be that easy, can it? But Ishtar was merely floating there, looking at her expectantly. That gave her the small jolt of courage she needed to raise her head and nod. "Very well, then. My … my thanks."

The words felt awkward as they fell from her lips, for she had never expected an (opportunity) occasion to direct them towards her sister without malice. But she let them stay said, for a goddess was nothing if not gracious in words and deeds.

Relief washed over her as the wasted adrenaline dissipated, and with it something small and shy fluttered in her breast. Maybe things really are different in Chaldea, she found herself thinking. We can at least be civil to each other. And maybe… maybe… She found herself smiling at Ishtar, and felt the fluttering thing become warm when her sister smiled back.

That warmth clung to her shoulders, a second mantle of soft pink to cover her crimson cloak, as she walked towards the door. But she had only taken a few steps when Ishtar awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Ahh… Ereshkigal. A moment, please."

She blinked and turned to face her sister once more. The other goddess looked unusually ill at ease, drifting with her limbs tucked in close instead of spread in their customary aerial grace.

Then Ishtar gritted her teeth and looked Ereshkigal straight in the eye. "I, the Great Goddess Ishtar, Queen of Love and War, command you to hear my words!"

Disappointment crashed down on Ereshkigal, threatening to drown out the warm embers so recently lit inside her. They'd been having… well, not exactly a moment, but that had been the closest they'd come to getting along in untold centuries.

"Don't speak to me as if I were a mortal, little sister," she snapped.

Ishtar plowed on, as if she hadn't said a word. As was entirely typical of her. "While I am splendid and spectacular, the very image of beauty and grace—"

Ereshkigal could feel the steam rising inside her. "Listen here, you—"

"—I have perhaps, ah, not always been an ideal sister." The other goddess looked away, but not before her cheeks flushed a light pink.

Ereshkigal blinked, the flame of her anger quelled by sheer astonishment. Ishtar acknowledging a fault was as unlikely as spotting a mussushu strolling down Chaldea's corridors, as impossible as Gilgamesh admitting he had no idea what might happen next. It simply didn't happen. She thought about discreetly pinching herself, for surely this was a dream.

It was made worse when the Archer took a deep breath before saying, spitting the words out as rapidly as a volley of arrows, "And it was wrong of me to try and claim Kur from you."

There was no sound but the faint crackle and hissing of the braziers' fires as Ereshkigal stared at her, mouth agape. Definitely a dream, or perhaps she had slipped away into the Abyss after all. How many centuries have I waited to hear those words, knowing full well that day would never come?

"You… you what?" She might have rejoiced if the whole thing had not felt so surreal. As it was, she felt strangely numb as she stared at her sibling in disbelief.

"Hmph! Don't make me say it again," said Ishtar, crossing her arms defensively in front of herself. "It's embarrassing for a goddess." She frowned and puffed her cheeks irritably in the continuing silence, as Ereshkigal scoured her face for the inevitable signs of deception. There had to be, because this sort of thing… it wasn't for her.

"I'm not apologizing, you understand! As the patroness of war, it's my prerogative to grab anything I can! But I'll concede it was graceless of me."

The world seemed to spin for a moment, blurs of gold and wine-red, and Ereshkigal had never felt so adrift, not even when she had stood with her foot on the edge of creation's endless black waves. That's an apology, any way you look at it, she thought, and felt herself at a loss. I should be happy, hearing this from her. And she was on some level, for she could feel the flutter in her chest stretch its wings hopefully. But it also dredged up raging sea of turbulent emotions, most of all hurt.

Ereshkigal sighed wearily, unable to keep the frown from her face. "Why did you even want my kingdom, Ishtar? Most gods avoided it like the plague." No matter how much I wished for them to visit. "It's cold and gloomy, and you only have eyes for pretty things. Were you that desperate for a conquest after Mount Ebih?"

"Well,I am a war goddess," said her sister dismissively. "But I admit you're not entirely wrong. I didn't want the Underworld, not really."

Ereshkigal felt fury boil her blood. "Then why?!" she exploded. Her sister seemed taken aback by her uncharacteristic outburst, but that only stoked the heat higher. "You went through all seven of my gates, giving up an Authority each time! Why would you do that on a whim?" She could have choked on her anger, and something even more painful underneath it. "Did you want to humiliate me so badly?"

"That's not wh—" said Ishtar, before clamping her mouth shut and looking away. After a tense silence, she shrugged. "Look, it's not important. Let's just say it was a mistake and leave it at that."

"No! You owe me an explanation, Ishtar. Your utter stupidity left me no choice but to rake you across the coals, and we've hated each other ever since!" Her hands clenched around the tablet. "What was so important that you felt the need to ruin everything?"

Ishtar's face flushed red as she looked determinedly up at the ceiling, the floor, everywhere but her irate sister. She floated a little bit away, as she often did when unconsciously seeking an exit. But there was nowhere to escape to within the closed quarters.

She eventually heaved a sigh and surrendered."Because you looked lonely, and I wanted you to take a break."

"What?" Ereshkigal's grip tightened to the point even the precious artifact might have snapped in half. "You came sailing down to snatch everything, in the most obnoxious way possible, for that? To tell me to take a vacation?" Her voice was nearly a shriek, but she was too angry to care. "Ishtar, why didn't you just ask?"

Why didn't you just extend your hand and ask me to come up? That's all I ever wanted from you! How dare you tell me this after I hurt you—killed you—tried to lock your soul away with me forever? You really are the worst goddess. She felt like laughing and crying at once.

Ishtar huffed. "Since when does a goddess ask? A goddess imposes her will. You know that." Her aerial turn had none of its usual grace. "And it was pointless to ask, because you would never have come! You would have said you had responsibilities so you couldn't play around like I do." She pointed a triumphant finger at Ereshkigal. "So I had to conquer it! That way you'd have no choice but to go up to the surface world."

Ereshkigal felt a headache coming on, a familiar sensation whenever her sister was involved. "That is the most ridiculous proposition I have ever heard!" she growled. "You in charge of the Underworld? All the gallu and lamashtu? You would have made an absolute mess of things!"

"I would have managed just fine!" shouted Ishtar indignantly. "I protected all those farmers and bricklayers, didn't I?"

"You extorted them for gems!"

"Hey, payment for services rendered! If you give out too many blessings for free, nobody will appreciate them."

A kaleidoscope of images swam before Ereshkigal's eyes as she thought of all the comforts she had sought and failed to bestow on her kingdom. She saw herself desperately patting earth around a few stolen barley seeds, hoping against hope that something would finally sprout in the silvery dust. Demanding that Nergal give up half his Authority to her, eagerly clasping it to her breast only to find it full of plagues instead of sunlight. All while Ishtar, brimming with power over life and growth, couldn't be bothered to protect harvests without a king's ransom in offerings.

"You could never have ruled the Underworld," said Ereshkigal, her jaw tight with anger. "You who refuses to think of others, how could you ever have taken care of lost souls?"

"I know what I'm doing!" protested Ishtar.

"No, you don't." Ereshkigal shot a dagger glare at her. "The Underworld isn't a game, just like divine Authority isn't a game. But you always treat everything as if it was." She waved a hand angrily. "Always doing what you want, and worrying about the consequences later. Humiliating the great mountain with that eyesore you call a temple! Prancing down to my gates to try and steal my kingdom!" Before she could reconsider, her mouth twisted with spite. "Even marrying Dumuzid for his golden sheep."

Her breath caught as she watched Ishtar's eyes flash with hurt, and for a moment she regretted jabbing a finger into that old wound. But her pride ate at her, and she refused to take it back. No, why should she? It was all true. "You are a spoiled brat," she spat instead, "You never understood the weight of responsibility."

"I understand," said Ishtar with a mocking voice and bitter eyes, "that you take it to such an extreme that it makes you miserable. And you know what? You've got no one to blame for that but yourself."

Ereshkigal saw red. "You… how dare you?" she hissed dangerously.

She let the tablet clatter to the floor, entirely forgotten in her anger. Golden light gathered underneath her hands, and then she was closing them around the great wedged-shaped spear that defined her as a Lancer. Gold and steel flashed dangerously in the firelight.

(Everything I poured into trying to improve Kur! How dare you stand there and tell me it was all wrong?)

Ishtar backed away warily, a small flare of blue light dancing on the end of her finger-gun. Crimson eyes locked on each other, they glared at each other across a room suddenly filled with razor wired tension.

"You're always like this," growled Ereshkigal. "You, who were given Authority beyond measuring! Who all the gods adored! Does responsibility still mean nothing to you?"

She stalked forward, her hands clenched around her spear so tightly that her fingers ached. The magic bullet glowing on the tip of Ishtar's index meant nothing at that moment. It would not stop her from saying her peace.

"Even here in Chaldea, you continue to make a mockery of things," she said. "Blowing up hallways every time you have a tantrum! Wasting Rayshift energy for your petty whims! I was wrong, you haven't changed at all. It was a mistake to ever think—!"

(to ever think we could be real sisters)

With that thought came exhaustion, so old and deep that it ached in her very bones. She did not want to play this game with Ishtar anymore. Or anything else, for that matter. What had it ever brought her but frustration to gnaw at her stomach?

With an abrupt wave of the hand, she dismissed her spear. The cloak fell regally across her shoulders as she turned sharply towards the door, cutting off Ishtar's wary frown. She held her head high as she strode towards the exist.

"Wait!" came her sister's voice from behind her. "Don't you still need the tablet?"

"I'm done with you, Ishtar." Ereshkigal paused in front of the door, her eyes fixed on the silvery metal. "I'm sparing you only because you've somehow tricked Master into thinking your power is worth putting up with you."

She ignored the other goddess' squawk of protest. "So we'll play nice when it's Master's orders. But outside of missions—" Ereshkigal took a deep breath, "—we're through. Never speak to me again."

With that, she stormed out into the corridor, carrying her anger with her like a candle in the gloom.

Author's Note: For a cake that balances sweet fluff with a twist of bitter angst perfectly, please consider having a look at my friend Exstarsis' story, "10,000 Worlds". It is a delicious almond of a fic.