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“Ah - Boudica!!”
… tsk.
Boudica sighs through her nose, schools her features and turns towards the rapidly approaching footsteps.
In fairness, she knew this might happen. The so-called ‘red rose of Olympia’ has been… ‘annoying’ would be a polite way of putting it, she supposes, since they were both summoned. The invitations to ‘prandium’ she’s ignored (or had to gently decline the couple of times that Master or Mash were used as messengers), and she can always fall back on kitchen duties the handful of other times they’ve crossed paths in Chaldea’s halls.
(She refuses to memorise Nero’s routes or other such nonsense. The bastard does not warrant that much energy or space in Boudica’s mind.)
Sure, they might be ostensibly working together; extenuating circumstances with the world quite literally on fire and all of humanity at stake. Boudica does not owe Nero Claudius of all people - or any of the poster children from that regime - a shred of her time or consideration otherwise.
The very idea of Nova Rome makes Boudica’s blood boil, honestly. But Master and Mash are heavily involved in all that, at the very top. If anyone could make a version of Rome that isn’t deeply forsaken by the gods… they’ve yet to disappoint in general, so Boudica’s putting her faith in them.
There’s also (Faerie?) Britain as a hard check, not to mention the other Servants. Or Riri, for that matter - funny enough, loosening up has led to her running an even tighter ship than before. The Incineration doesn’t hurt, but that wouldn’t explain the staff’s cautious warming up to the new her.
Master’s organising the food for their… opening event - thing, so Boudica didn’t think too much about the meeting he set up with her, EMIYA, Rimaru and - Cat? The maid outfit isn’t for show. Little Mash is sadly busy setting up medical with her father, Sanson and Martha, but Ritsu and Rimaru are great kids and EMIYA and Cat are wonderful coworkers, so Boudica set aside her reservations and stayed focused on the fun time they were sure to have.
She’s still sure this wasn’t a trap. Master of all people obviously understands her stance; his hope for less friction within reason, along with Mash’s, is the only reason Boudica’s entertained being involved in any of this.
Trust a Roman to be an oppor…tunist, though…
… hrm.
That’s an odd look. Almost… Boudica would call it contrite, if that wasn’t so patently ridiculous.
“Nero.”
“Umu.” Nero nods, hands twitching. “I was hoping I would catch you.” Her frown deepens. “I’d hoped to do this in private, but you’ve left me little choice.”
Right. Here come the short-sighted grievances.
Boudica takes a breath and keeps the scowl off her face as Nero -
As… Nero…
Why is she taking a knee?
“I never had the chance,” and there’s… the other one?, “to speak with you - after.” Her brow sets. “But it’s drifted through my mind, ever since. After we fought together. Of course it has.”
… right. She remembers, for some reason.
Well, Boudica is not sitting on the floor with her for… whatever this is.
Nero brushes at the front of what she calls a dress and huffs. “Ideally we would have a proper discussion,” she says, “but I hardly want to give you the space to leave, so I’ll make this brief.”
She takes a deep breath…
And - lowers, her head…??
“I have never once had to do this before or after that time.” Lower… and lower still. “So I hope you’re appropriately appreciative of this historic ev-”
“What the hell are you doing.”
Ah, there are her words.
Nero blinks up. “Ah - I believe this is called a ‘dogeza’? It’s from our shared Master’s culture, I’m given to believe it’s a sign of -”
“I know what it means,” Boudica snaps, and there goes her tone.
“Then I would think my intent is clear?” Nero gestures between them. “Given, well. Your people, and… how, ah…”
Boudica stills.
She feels everything bleed out of her. Something cold and heavy settles in her chest.
“Ah, wait.” Nero blinks down. “The hands! I forgot to,” she stretches her arms out in front of her, palms down on the ground. “Very good! Now -”
“Do you think this is funny?”
Nero blinks up, and then starts. Boudica cannot even imagine what her face is doing, but if even a fraction of the cold fury spreading over her is getting through, the fear on the harlot’s face tracks.
The incarnation is the only reason she hasn’t killed her on the spot.
“You think that… what.” Her head tilts. “We have to… make nice, because of our Master? That you can offer a grand gesture, all flash and no substance, and I would have to stand here and take it?”
She registers pain in her jaw. Vaguely, she becomes aware of the rictus snarl contorting her face.
“Do you think your empty platitudes will undo the atrocities my people - that your ostensible allies at the time suffered, at the hands of your soldiers? After our loss, because of your greed…!?” Her fists clench; her nails draw blood from her palms. “Do you seriously believe that some demented joke of an apology will make up for - for defiling my…!!”
“Of course not.”
…?
Nero’s face… is doing that - thing, again.
“You have every right to despise me,” she murmurs. “There is no excuse for the Iceni’s treatment at the hands of my people. What you had to endure, because I was unable -”
Her face twists, and she looks down… in shame…?
“… no, you don’t,” she shakes her head, “you don’t need my excuses.” Her hands, curled into trembling fists, press into the ground between them. “The fact is, my Rome betrayed you, trampled upon you… and then again, when you came for your pound of flesh. You, who should have flourished with us. As… as much as it - hurts, how many of my subjects you…”
She swallows.
“I wish I could say I cannot imagine the stones we first cast, to turn one so kind and gentle into an avatar of bloody vengeance. But once I ascended to the Throne… it was made all too clear to me.”
… right. As a Heroic Spirit…
Nero looks up, brows set and eyes hard.
“I know well how meaningless it is now, after everything. Righting the wrongs of my retainers would be beyond even one such as I, even given several lifetimes. Offering my own life would barely make a dent, but perhaps it would be something of a start.”
Her brows tilt. With sorrow, along with…
“… but my life is no longer just mine to throw away or offer up at my whim.”
… right. Of course.
“My pride, my dignity, means nothing to you, I’m sure,” Nero says, “but it’s all I can offer. Throw it away if you wish, trample over it if you wish. You don’t have to accept it, but I want it made clear that I mean this, wholly and sincerely, from the bottom of my heart.”
Her head touches the floor, palms flat down just in front of it.
“I am truly… deeply sorry.”
…
…!
“I’m just the shadow she left behind,” comes out of Boudica’s mouth. “This is beyond meaningless. You know that. Right?”
Nero’s head jerks into the floor.
“Even as I am now, I will never forgive Rome.” Boudica’s face tightens. “This changes nothing and fixes nothing.”
“Umu.”
It’s as she said. Nothing that she could do would change what’s happened. Short of stealing a Grail and creating more work for all of them.
… gods fucking damn it.
“Get off the floor, Nero,” Boudica sighs, fists loosening. Nero’s (bizarrely antenna-like) cowlick flicks, and she glances up. “I’m not accepting whatever this is.”
Nero’s cowlick wilts. “Ah.”
Boudica feels her eye twitch. Why would she do this if she couldn’t handle a rejection?!
… no, that’s… just the sort of headache she is.
Arrogant, self-centred. Often childish.
Earnest and honest to a fault. Dedicated to her people. Surprisingly attentive.
“Boudica of the Iceni will never forgive Rome,” Boudica says. “But I’m not really her, and you aren’t the Rome she so despised. I learned that as a Heroic Spirit, the same way you learned what I endured. And after the Singularity…”
She can’t do it. Andraste forgive her, but she can’t hold a grudge against this child.
Maybe things would be different if she didn’t remember Septem. If she couldn’t now put a face to the name behind it all, and see how different it was and is from the vast, formless evil she’d built up in her head.
But she does, and she can. And Nero’s gone and done this.
Besides…
“I’ve tried revenge,” Boudica says, crouching down. “Wasn’t much a fan.” She offers a hand. “Let’s leave the past in the past. That’s the best I can do.”
Nero blinks as she beckons.
“Come on. This isn’t how an emperor should act.”
Nero smiles a bit, after a moment, and clasps Boudica’s hand. A ‘mmu?!’ escapes her as Boudica pulls her up (with perhaps slightly too much force).
“Hm,” she goes. “Well.” She dusts off her knees and beams, hands on her hips. “This was much more productive than I expected!” To think a day would come that Boudica would agree with Nero on anything. Her mouth wobbles a bit. “We will be keeping this between us, of course.”
Boudica snorts. “You making a fool of yourself is nothing new,” and she’ll admit, Nero’s frown is satisfying, “but yes, I’d much rather forget this nonsense ever happened.” She squints. “Just to be sure, Master had nothing to do with this, right?”
“Oh, no no no,” Nero shakes her head three times fast. “Not directly, anyway. It was something I saw in one of the ‘anime’ things the three of us were watching. Inspiration did strike after Mash pointed it out and he explained it, but he’d doubtless have tried to dissuade me if he knew.”
“Right.” Obviously. “Now if you’re quite done.”
“Mm? Ah! Right, yes, you,” Nero raises her hands, “you were doing the… you had the meeting.”
“Mhrm.” She shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes late, but with the Rome Clause, they’ll likely be happy she’s bothering at all. “And Nero?”
Nero pauses mid-bustle and blinks over her shoulder. Boudica sighs through her nose.
“… don’t fuck this one up.” She lets the dwindling embers of fury flare up onto her face. “All of Chaldea will not save you from me if you do.”
Nero blinks again. And then she smiles, small and soft.
“No need to worry.” She looks down at her right hand; her fingers trace the purple ‘sword’ on the back of it. “They won’t let me.”
… right.
That belief was what brought Boudica here.
She considers Nero’s retreating figure for a moment.
… perhaps… she wasn’t giving her enough credit.