Part 2 of arranged marriage au
Summary: Ilya hates it, hates the way Rin looks at her, hates the way her eyes seem to light up whenever they see each other. And she absolutely despises the way Rin says her name in that stupidly soft voice of hers. But Ilya finds she doesn’t mind it so much when it’s only the two of them.
Chapter 1: A raging Storm
The holy grail war was unforgiving in many ways.
In their attempts to curry more favor, masters regularly commit atrocities.
No act was off limits, up to and including murder. In their world, mercy and compassion was the exception. In exchange for the holy grail, lives were forfeited, witnesses slaughtered, and their very humanity was given up.
Her parents had willingly participated in the very war that had cost them their lives, knowing there was no going back once they had set their sights on winning the grail.
And what did they get? Nothing.
Ilya couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to participate in a gruesome war.
Her father was a foolish man to drag his entire family into the mix. Ten years ago, the fourth holy grail war resulted in countless deaths, her mother included.
She desperately wanted to go back in time and tell them to abandon the war. Run, far, far away from the conflict. But she couldn’t. To pull off a feat like that required powerful magical energy, one like the chalice; the very one that housed the holy grail and its omnipotent power.
It was inevitable, her mother’s death and then her father's dying breath.
She could barely remember their faces anymore. Perhaps that was for the best.
It was unfair of them to leave her like that.
Being all alone in that big, dark castle wasn’t easy.
Especially the nightmares. The nightmares were a constant reminder to never, ever forget.
On the anniversary of her mother's death, they were even worse.
The bloody violent images would haunt her to her core; images of a man weeping for his bride, another of betrayal, and one of a family in shambles. The last thing she sees is a burning field. Rarely ever did her father show up.
But when she least suspects it, he’d come swooping down like a knight in shining armor and rescue her. She knows he isn’t real; her father would never hug her as he did, never cried as hard as he did, and he certainly would never tell her that he loved her.
Because when it came down to it, Kiritsugu was incapable of love.
She didn’t see the point in her father making amends. His apologies were long overdue, and what good would come out of it?
In her dreams, Kiritsugu would always, always apologize.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t come home like I promised, Ilya,” Kiritsugu would say , holding her hand. Kiritsugu would be kneeling, the gun strapped to his wrist and the remnants of a fading tattoo barely visible to the naked eye. “So promise me, you’ll be a good girl from now on.”
“I promise, father.”
Then, he would smile like usual and ask about her mother.
Honestly, Ilya didn’t know how to answer except to tell him she didn’t know. He didn’t either, it seemed.
And just for a little while, she wanted to believe in him.
But dreams were dreams and eventually, Ilya had to wake up.
Her fondest memories were of her mother’s lullabies. Those lullabies had helped her fall asleep faster and reassured her that everything was going to be alright. She could still remember it, the sound of her mother's voice, the warmth of her hands, and the smile ghosting her lips every now and then made her feel at peace.
She remembered her mother's insistence on hugging her that very morning.
Ilya had hated feeling coddled like a child whenever her mother would smother her to her heart's content. It was downright embarrassing. That day, before she left, her mother had given her one last hug as if her life had depended on it. It was almost as if she was afraid they’d never see each other again. It couldn’t be, though, right?
For all that mercy, never once had her mother given her the truth.
But she wasn’t stupid either.
As much as Ilya pretended she didn’t see the clues before her, they were too obvious to ignore.
Ilya happened upon it by accident, once when she was exploring the castle.
Locked doors never stayed locked when she was around.
Once she had opened the door, she quickly went snooping around the place.
The basement was full of homunculus bodies, research papers scattered on the table, and old equipment long abandoned. The room probably hadn’t been used in years.
Ilya dusted the cobwebs on a notebook nearby, reading the contents of the journal in messy handwriting.
Next to it layed an old calendar.
Ilya held her breath.
The date on the calendar circled ten years ago.
A quick perusal of the journal confirmed it also dated back to that very war. It chronicled the writer's failed attempts to win the war and the resistance he met. The last entry detailed well planned out assassinations of the other masters, each with their names written on the page’s top sides. All of the names were crossed out except for one.
Ilya paid it no mind and continued reading.
The blood rushing to her head made her dizzy.
And then she was faced with the very truth of what happened. But the last pages were ripped out of the book before she even had a chance to read them.
She wanted answers so badly right then and there. She could have sought out her grandfather and demanded the truth, but there was every chance he would lie.
But the journal was enough proof and it gave her the exact answers she’d wanted. The details didn’t matter, the truth didn’t matter, and her mother’s death didn’t matter because in the end, they were all tools to her grandfather.
But did she really need to know? It would only distract her from her job. Grandfather would know what to do. But that man wasn’t to be trusted.
She was afraid of the truth, that maybe grandfather might have been behind her father's disappearance, or that her mother’s death had been because of him.
And maybe she was right.
There was no denying it.
So afraid of the truth, she allowed herself to turn a blind eye to her grandfather's plans. She let herself believe in her grandfather's lies because they might as well have been true.
Ilya asked once what happened to her parents and her grandfather had given the runabout of her father's betrayal. After that, she never brought up the topic again.
She saw the way the old man had looked at her; with not an ounce of love evident in his eyes. She recognized that look. While he never said anything out loud, it didn't take a genius to know the man loathed her. But however terrible he was, he still provided her with a roof over her head.
All he asked for in return was her obedience.
She gave him exactly what he wanted, no questions asked. He could have given her all the power she needed and all she had to give was her soul, maybe more in the process. He’d given her father just that, and then her mother. And her father gave and gave until he had nothing left to give.
This time however he’d give her much more of that; Shirou’s death.
With Kiritsugu out of the way, the last person standing was his son. The boy Kiritsugu had traded in for his daughter.
In the end, Ilya had used that as an excuse to follow her grandfather's orders — no matter how questionable they’d been, she obeyed.
Tapping her fingers on the table, Ilya watched the storm rage outside the window, blanketing the entire area in white sheets of snow and encasing its surroundings in ice.
The seasons never seemed to change in the castle, and Ilya had to wonder when it’d end. Thoughts about being stuck inside of the castle, trapped with no one but her maids day in and day out frightened her. And for the first time, Ilya couldn’t bear it.
The holy grail war was approaching fast and Ilya was still unprepared.
She stared at the command spells that had quickly begun to morph into her skin, right down to the rest of her body, glowing in an eerie redness that resembled an uncanny resemblance to blood. She felt the swell of power surge within her, the magic tucked deep within her body and Ilya let herself bask in the glow of it.
It felt warm.
So, so warm.
Soon, she’d be able to leave this wretched castle and head on to Fuyuki, just in time for the holy grail war to commence.
The holy grail would grant her any wish she wanted, wouldn’t it?
That meant she could see her parents again.
Much to her luck, her grandfather had let her have her pick of anything so long as she won the war. More than anything, Ilya wanted to know what had happened on that fateful day, ten years ago.
No one was going to get in her way.
Not her grandfather, not her mother, not her father, and certainly not Shirou. Even if it meant killing innocent people, so be it. They were nothing compared to her.
Ilya was determined to get to the bottom of it. It was simple. All she had to do was win the holy grail war and then everything would go back to the way it was before. She was certain of that. The lies she told herself were worth the trouble.
And with a heavy heart, Ilya finally summoned her servant at last.
The moment she laid her eyes on her servant hovering over with that unmistakable gleam in his eyes, she couldn’t stop shaking.
Yes, with a servant like that, Ilya would definitely win.
In the far distant, the sound of a bird’s lullaby traveled far and wide, signaling the start of a new beginning.
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