Once upon a time there was a little girl.

No one noticed when she was sad. No one noticed when she was happy. That was because there was no one there to see. But she was good with numbers and worked hard on them to make the people who weren't there happy. It made her happy to know they were happy, even if they weren't there to see.

Such a lonely little girl.

Once upon a time there was a big girl.

She was good with numbers and people wanted her numbers, so she gave them freely. It made her sad, sometimes, that no one seemed to see anything but the numbers. But the numbers made everyone happy and that was enough.

Still lonely, but not as lonely as before.

Once upon a time there was a young woman.

She was good with numbers but it wasn't enough anymore. She wanted more. She wanted to meet people, to know people, to find a man who wouldn't mind the numbers. But they didn't want her to go. They wanted her to stay and give them the numbers and she did but she was less happy about it. And very, very alone.

Such a lonely young woman.

Once upon a time there was a princess in a tower.

She got tired of people taking her numbers and not giving anything in return so she stopped giving them what they wanted. She became a demanding princess, insisting that she go where she could meet people, know people, find a man who wouldn't mind the numbers. So they told her she was a demanding princess and locked her in a tower so she would have to give them the numbers, or else. For a while she tried not to but then she found out what or else meant and gave them the numbers again. She'd always thought they didn't care if she was happy, but now she knew.

Such a lonely princess in a tower.

Once upon a time the princess became a Master.

Numbers dug into her skin and they hurt but they were so beautiful. She could see the numbers that made up what they were and wanted to be part of numbers bigger than any she had ever had before. So the Princess accepted the pain and summoned her Prince to rescue her from the tower. He would take her far, far away and she would never have to give up her numbers again. And for the first time in her life, she wasn't lonely anymore.

Such a hopeful princess, still locked in her tower.

I must win this Grail War, Sigurd thought grimly as slowly moved closer to his prey. He was expertly using the bushes and trees for cover, taking his time and pausing whenever the back of his neck started to itch. That was where his Master had implanted a tiny piece of gold filigree, a rune of such beauty and power that Sigurd's pitiful mind could not begin to comprehend it.

Stop that. When he the war is over I'll teach you my numbers if you stay, her soft voice whispered through his mind and Sigurd's lips quirked in a small smile even as he concentrated on his final task.

I have a decent head for numbers, princess, but not like that, Sigurd thought back and felt her disagreement. She might have said something but then he froze as a powerful itch hit him. Sigurd had to restrain himself with iron will from scratching as his Master whispered strange incantations in his mind. The itching eased again and Sigurd relearned how to breathe. This was quite a nerve-wracking task.

He was almost there though. Almost, almost, and Sigurd wasn't after a Servant today. He was after a well defended and capable Master. The Servant he held was a rare monster so it was imperative that this man die.

How is the distraction holding up? Sigurd asked mentally as he finally reached the little cabin in the woods. This was the hardest part... his Master whispered back, her mental voice as soft and meek as her physical.

Good. We'll go harder now. Perfect. They needed maximum distraction now. If the Master employed a Command Seal and summoned his Servant, the assassination attempt was done.

The Master didn't get the chance. Sigurd's dagger took him from behind, right in the base of the neck. The man, hardly better than a boy, died instantly. Sigurd felt a bit of disgust at himself but it quickly died. His Master needed him like... like Brynhildr had, trapped behind her wall of flame.

Rider is very angry but already disappearing. Archer is laughing, his Master reported and Sigurd nodded, unsurprised. Archer had a cruelty to his nature and enjoyed seeing the mighty brought low. Please come home.

"Right." Sigurd said aloud. Their alliance with Archer had ended with Riders' defeat. It was time for him to go back to his Master and the mystical fortress that was also her prison. As he left the cabin behind, Sigurd felt his iron determination once again. He'd gone through a wall of fire to free a Valkyrie. Now, Sigurd would tear down a tower to rescue a princess.

A fitting task for a hero.

If Sigurd had to use a single word to describe his master, it would be soft.

Soft in appearance, with her fine brown hair and rounded face. Soft spoken, sometimes to the point that he had trouble making out her words. Soft hands and soft body, touched by very little exercise, like a true noblewoman. And most of all, soft brown eyes that revealed a gentle and retiring soul.

Those soft hands were a pure pleasure as they gently rubbed his neck, easing the ache of the rune and the tension in his muscles. Sigurd surrendered himself to her attentions with a sigh, reflecting that he was enjoying this a bit too much. And yet, it was so wonderful, to have the attention of a woman again.

"Are you feeling better?" His Master asked and Sigurd lazily opened his eyes to see her gazing at him with concern.

"I am fine. Do not worry about me, Esme," he assured her. Truly, her concerns were needless. Sigurd knew pain - oh, how he knew - and the implants and enchantments Esme touched him with were only annoying. Her concern deepened as a soft hand caressed his cheek.

"I worry that you won't tell me if something is wrong," she said almost inaudibly and Sigurd admitted, to himself, that it was a valid concern. "Please, you must tell me if anything hurts. That could mean you're rejecting," Esme said, her voice strengthening. Sigurd nodded. "If you're feeling better, it's time for supper."

"Mmm, yes." Sigurd looked forward the food but not the meal. The way the dishes wafted in, and the knowledge that it was untouched by human hands, was disconcerting. So were the grim reasons behind it. But his Master needed encouragement to eat. Esme had the appetite of a bird and her figure was far too thin.

Sigurd sat up, stretching for a moment before standing and glancing around. This enchanting room would not have been out of place in his own castle, made of dark stone and furnished with warm wood. The window was softened with golden draperies that could be tightly closed to block the light. Leaving the room they began to walk down a long, winding staircase. They would have to go down six levels to reach the dining room but there was no choice in the matter. The enchanted servants would not serve food anywhere else and if they happened to miss the set times, no food would be forthcoming. Sigurd wondered how often his Master had gone hungry. It was fortunate he'd arrived back in time for the dinner service.

The dining room, again, took Sigurd back to his castle… it was a beautiful room with tapestries on the walls and a huge dining table that could easily seat a lord and his whole family, including cousins, aunts and uncles. It was terrible sad to see a small slip of a woman taking a seat alone at this table. Sigurd resolutely took a seat across from her.

The fact that they were both seated, and the time, triggered the serving. Apparently her prisoners had anticipated that they would sometimes come to visit their princess, because Sigurd's presence brought out a second dish. They wafted in, carried by nothing but air, before settling neatly in front of them both. Hmm, today was a beef sandwich, neatly sliced meat on a crusty roll with a small salad on the side. Sigurd waited patiently and a small basket of condiments soon came out, settling on the table between them. He took the mustard and spread it on the bread, as his Master took the ketchup. As he ate, Sigurd kept an eye on her. Esme was prone to pick at her food. Sure enough, she took a few tiny bites before setting down her sandwich, using the fork to stir the salad while gazing away.

"Master, stop thinking of your numbers and think of the food instead," Sigurd said firmly and she blinked before blushing. Mumbling sorry's, Esme took a forkful of the salad and began to eat. Sigurd mentally shook his head as he went back to his food. He was sure his Master had been starving herself. And why wouldn't she, if the food didn't interest her?

I have to get her out of here, and remain by her side. It meant making a different wish than the one he'd intended but Sigurd had no illusions. Breaking the curses that kept her chained here was only the first step. Then they needed to flee and hide, avoiding the ones who would drag her back. And while Esme had the ability to save herself, she might lose the will for it, as the loneliness overwhelmed her. I'm sorry Brynhildr. Sigurd's wish had been to see her again but the dead would have to take second place to the living. And was he seeing that?

"Master, please stop doodling with ketchup on your napkin," Sigurd said wearily, feeling like a nanny. Why was it so hard to get his princess to eat?

"Oh I'm sorry I just had an idea…" Yes, but she had those all the time, couldn't it stop for a moment? Fortunately she picked up her sandwich again. That was the important part, if she could get even half of it inside her he'd be satisfied.

When they were done she had indeed managed half of it, to Sigurd's relief. And he had an idea for what they could do next.

"Would you like to dance with me, princess, before I must go?" Sigurd asked with a smile and saw soft brown eyes light up.

"Oh, I would love to!" Yes, dancing and music were her great delights, aside from her numbers. Although they were all intertwined… to his Master, music and dancing were made of numbers and timing, the things she excelled at. The great ballroom was up two floors and as they walked in, his princess started the music. Sigurd was not a great dancer but still took delight in it, as he twirled her around the floor. The brilliant smile on her face, the joy in her eyes, made his princess beautiful.

Sigurd would give her this pleasure before he had to leave her again.