Medea hummed cheerfully to herself, practically skipping through the halls of Chaldea. This was more than a little odd for the normally dour, cruel Caster, but today she was in an absolutely fantastic mood. Her beloved Saber, that beautiful woman whose face captured her heart and soul so completely, had asked her to come to her room! After all the watching and waiting and the occasional magically dressing her up in pretty dresses, she finally asked Medea to come to her room without any kind of trickery or coercion needed!

The witch fantasized what it could possibly be about. Did she desire to be a live model for the creation of a new figurine? Perhaps she wanted to have Medea take pictures of her in cute, or dare she think, risque poses? Or or or, maybe she wanted to confess! Medea could just see it, the cute young woman laying her heart bare before her beloved, before gently taking her hand and guiding it to her breast, asking to take her clothes and then to take her…

Medea was in such a fantasy she nearly walked straight past the Saber-class servant’s door. She shook herself out of it, smiling widely in anticipation. She didn’t have to fantasize about what Artoria might want from her. The real thing would be right through that door, and she could tell Medea all about her desires. She knocked out a simple rhythm on the door, swaying on her feet as she waited for the king of knights to answer.

The door opened promptly, and Medea’s heart felt like it skipped a beat as she saw Artoria standing there. “Caster. Thank you for being punctual.” Artoria said. Her tone was flat and disinterested, but to Medea it may as well have been a loving hug. Usually she got a “disgusted” or “annoyed” tone.

“Of course, of course~ How could I not? I’d have been here earlier, but I was so distracted by my joy~” Medea practically sang.

“...Come in.” Artoria managed, although it sounded strained. Medea could almost hear her mumble “I’m going to regret this…” but that was obviously her imagination.

Medea strolled into the room and took her hood down, looking around the place like she’d entered heaven. It was as standard a room as they came, although it was so orderly that it hardly looked lived in at all. The only sign that it was occupied was the odd burger wrapper in the wastebasket. And yet, to Medea, it was beautiful. It was the abode of her beloved Artoria, how could it be anything but beautiful? “Ah, there is such a thing as heaven after all…”

“Medea. We are here to talk, not to gawk.” Artoria said sharply.

“Yes, darling, of course…” Medea sighed, clearly still in la-la-land and hardly listening. The bed was so neat, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t it be a delight to make a mess of it?

“Sit down.” Artoria said, nodding towards a chair she had prepared as she took her own seat.

Medea did so, although it didn’t seem to damper her mood any. “What did you call me here for, darling? Admission of your affections? A desire to have me dress you up cute? Something else? Oh, what could it be~?”

“If you don’t take this a bit more seriously, I’m going to have to throw you out of the room.” Artoria said, her face impassive. It was a testament to her willpower that she wasn’t showing her annoyance on her face.

Medea took a few deep breaths and calmed herself down a little. She had to focus, for her darling. “...Ok, I’m calm now…” she said, “What do you need? If it’s anything I can help with, I’d be glad.”

“I want you to stop stalking me.”

“Ah, that one’s out of my power.” Medea said. “I could no more give you up than a bird could give up it’s wings. Can’t be done.” Artoria would of course have known that - she wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Medea would just give up. So Medea wondered why she had called her there to ask…

Artoria smiled a bit, eye twitching almost imperceptibly. “Of course, I expected that you would say that. However, I believe we can likely come to… an agreement. If I could give you something that would allow you to satisfy yourself, could you potentially leave me be? The harassment can interfere with my duties, and it is getting to be too much.”

“Such a thing is clearly impossible. Nothing could satisfy me but you, my darling.” Medea said. But… Artoria surely knew that. She was curious. “If, however, you somehow managed to accomplish it…”

Artoria nodded. She looked confident - that was a look Medea liked, but she couldn’t begin to imagine why. “I asked the Master for a favor.” she said, pulling off her gauntlet. A red command seal, an emblem of a blazing lion, was on her hand. “She gave me a Command Seal, to use for making myself more comfortable in your presence. I told her it was to help stop your harassment, but I’ll give it to you.”

“You know that I could just use it on you, to have you play along as my lovely doll, do you not?” Medea asked. She was all aboard for that, of course, but Artoria surely knew it.

“Master would know, and she wouldn’t stand for it. You know I’m one of her favorites.” Artoria said. “Hence the second part. I’ll help keep your privacy as you have your way with a certain someone. Someone who wouldn’t be missed.”

“Oh…?”

“There is a certain someone who has… angered me, just a bit too often. I can arrange to get her alone with you, and for you to have the command seal. You will have two hours of privacy in which nobody will interrupt, and I have the influence to make sure that the Master doesn’t notice anything strange afterwards. What you do in that time is completely up to you.” Artoria listed off her offer coldly, with the tone of someone stating simple facts of life.

“Oh my, that is a tempting offer. But it’d take someone special to keep me away from you… it would take another you, in fact.” Medea said. It was such a tempting offer. With all that, and if she got them by surprise, she could have her way with nearly anyone. She wondered - was she offering her Lily? Or that big titted Lancer? She could imagine such fun with them… oh, or perhaps her Alter, Medea could just imagine breaking her hateful facade to find the adorable girl beneath!

“I can’t bring you one of the other versions of myself.” Artoria said flatly. “I can bring you… something close, though.”

“Very well then… who do you propose?”

“I’m certain you know of her…”

-----

Mordred strode through the halls with a scowl on her face. What did Father want from her? Artoria had left a message outside of her room that morning, requesting that she come visit her parent’s room. Several things about that bothered Mordred. For one, why did Mordred have to go to Artoria’s room if the latter was the one who wanted to meet? Secondly, why would Artoria leave a message instead of telling her in person, be it at her room or sometime later like at lunch? Thirdly, why so little detail as to the reason? It hadn’t said anything beyond the request to meet. Fourth, why was it worded less like a request and more like an order? Here in Chaldea, Artoria had no power over her! By all rights, Mordred may as well ignore it - if Artoria wanted her so bad, she’d have to come to her!

That’s what Mordred thought alright, as she walked down the hallway towards Artoria’s room all the same. She was coming because she was going that way already, and that was it. She could deign to pop in on her way, it wasn’t because she actually cared that Artoria wanted to meet her. It was obvious by her fast walking pace that she had places to be, things to do, and if it just so happened to bring her to the room on time that was serendipity and nothing more.

Fortified with these ironclad (rusted iron, anyway) justifications, Mordred confidently arrived at Artoria’s room, and pushed the door open without bothering to knock. Artoria had decided to impose herself on Mordred’s time, then Mordred wasn’t going to bother with the niceties. “I’m here, alright!” she snapped, not even looking since she was closing the door behind her, “What do you want, huh?”

“Oh, just you~” A voice said, right in Mordred’s ear.

Mordred jumped - literally, nearly hitting the ceiling - and as she stumbled back to the ground she saw that the voice was from a certain witch she knew. “Medea! What’s going on here, huh? You sniffing Father’s panties again? She’s supposed to be here soon, you know.”

Medea raised her eyebrows dramatically. “Really? Oh, I should go then. Thanks for the warning~” she said, strolling up to the door. The dagger came out too fast for Mordred to see, slicing a thin line across her belly.

“What the hell do you think you’re -” Mordred started to shout, drawing Clarent from it’s sheath, but she suddenly felt intensely sick. Her combat posture crumbled, and she nearly fell to the ground.

Medea smiled, cupping her chin in her hand and tilting the stunned Saber’s head to look her in the eye. “Rule Breaker is such a fun little toy, isn’t it? Severing your Contract with the Master is just a slice away, and with it, your source of mana.” she giggled, a manic gleam in her eye. “Now, there’s nothing to stop me from getting you ready for the wedding~”

“You… you bitch, you can’t do this to me here…” Mordred gasped, staggering back to her feet. She hadn’t even registered the second sentence, still stunned by the sudden and violent severing of her contract. “We’re both Servants of the same Master. She’ll be pissed if she finds out-”

“Well, she won’t find out. Our lovely Artoria is going to see to that.” Medea nearly laughed as she spoke. “And besides, that’s just not true anymore. I may still be Gudako’s servant, but you… well, you’re something of a free agent, now.”

Mordred wanted to deny her, to fight her, but she was right - her connection with her Master had been severed, and she was bleeding mana fast just to keep her physical form. “So what? I go back to the Throne of Heroes and get resummoned in a week. What about it?”

“Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?” Medea said. She slipped her sleeve down. “Your Father and I talked quite a bit… and we came to an agreement.” On Medea’s hand was something that could not possibly be there. It was a command seal, even though she couldn’t possibly have one. “She… acquired this, for me. It’s a special one, right from Master… and by my Command, I order you to become my Servant!”

The command seal glowed bright, and Mordred felt her mana being replenished. That was good - the problem was that the person doing it wasn’t Gudako anymore, it was Medea. She had used a command seal to forcibly forge a contract with her. “You - I won’t! I’d sooner kill you, and you don’t have a command seal to stop me anymore!”

As Mordred swung her blade at Medea’s face, though, she found herself stopping short. “No, but I do have magic. And you may be a Saber… but if I’m feeding you mana directly, your magic resistance can’t do much to stop me, can it?”

Indeed, Mordred could already feel the magic taking hold of her. And more than that, it began to… change her, somehow. “Your face is so much like Artoria’s already…” Medea said, “Why don’t I make the rest of you match it? Make you just as lovely as she is~?”

Mordred could barely move as she felt what was happening. At first, she couldn’t see it, but Medea pulled a little mirror out of the folds of her cloak to let her get a good view. Her hair, usually a total mess, seemed to be reordering itself. It smoothed out as if a strong brush was run through it, being forced into orderly straightness. Then, it began to wrap itself up, into a tight style. At first it was hard to determine what, but it quickly became apparent that her hair was being forced into Artoria’s style. With her identical face and eyes, that was really all it took to make her look almost exactly like her Father, if a far more foul tempered version thereof. “Of all the things you could do, you make me look like her? That’s unforgivable you-!” Mordred shouted, before stopping in her tracks. It wasn’t just her hair. Even her voice was now identical to Artoria’s, one of the few innate differences between her and her Father gone. As a final, almost mocking touch, some of her sprang up from the otherwise orderly mass, into a pointed ahoge, making Mordred match her father even more. She no longer looked like Mordred - she just looked like Artoria wearing her clothes.

“That’s much better…” Medea sighed, “That beautiful golden hair, that angelic voice… much better than your old self, isn’t it?”

Mordred would be shaking with rage if she could move much at all. “Is that all you got? Turning me into her twin?”

“Of course not. It’s not even been ten minutes of the two hours I was offered. I plan to make full use of the time granted… after all, I want to enjoy this as long as I can~” Medea said, and Mordred felt more magic pumped into her. Normally, having such an oversaturation of mana would be great for her power, but Medea was using her connection to weaken Mordred, making her unable to fight back against her changes and forcing her to listen to the madwoman’s delirious ramblings.

For some time, Mordred didn’t realize what was changing. But then she noticed the strange feeling at her extremities, her hands and feet. She looked at her hand - it seemed she could accomplish some movement that wasn’t related to escape or attack - and was baffled by the sight, staring for a long time. Her hand was… shiny. Not that weird on it’s own, but this was Mordred - she fought so much that her hands were calloused and bruised 24/7. But her skin was absolutely perfect, and seemed to glint in the light even. And that was before she noticed the visible joints on her fingers. “W-What the fuck is this supposed to be?” she cried out.

“Oh, nothing to worry about. You’re going to be my pretty doll from now on, like a life sized model! You might as well look the part, don’t you think?” Medea said cheerfully, her bright smile unnerving when combined with her actions.

“A-A doll? You think I’m just going to sit around looking pretty for you, huh bitch?”

“No, of course not, don’t be silly. You’ll be clinging to my arm, eager to try on new dresses and professing your love for me.”

The transformation progressed quickly, the porcelain tone climbing up Mordred’s skin from where it had begun at her hands and feet. She could still feel the parts, but they felt… strange, delicate. Not at all the body of a Knight, and certainly not of Mordred. “You won’t get away with this… no matter how much influence Father has, the others will know-”

“And they won’t care.” Medea said flatly. “After all, compare yourself for a moment to Artoria. She’s a real leader. Charismatic, decisive. She knows how to get the best out of people, and she’s made nearly all the servants here at least listen to her, if not like her. If they had to pick between her and you, they’d pick her every time - at least, if they even notice you’re gone at all.”

Mordred felt like she’d been slapped in the face. That couldn’t be true… people would care. Even if they didn’t like her, they certainly wouldn’t like Medea enough to keep quiet. But the words wormed their way into her mind all the same, whispering their doubts as the transformation continued. It was up to her knees and elbows now, the porcelain overtaking them. For a few moments, she could no longer move as those limbs were frozen at the joints, but as the transformation grew past them it left behind visible joints just like you’d see on any doll. “I… that doesn’t matter! I beat her, way back then, that proves I’m better, doesn’t it?”

“Does it? You fight like a madwoman, not like a warrior. Artoria is graceful, her fights are like a dance. You, on the other hand, fight like a cavewoman, using your sword more like a club. Which sounds better to you? Which sounds like the superior warrior?” Medea said, gently pushing Mordred’s sword arm down and rubbing her fingers across her new porcelain skin. It felt so nice… she looked forward to the rest~

“I, clearly, uh-” Mordred stammered, unable to mount a defense against that. Normally she would, but her thoughts were nearly as in disarray as her body. “S-Screw you, that’s what it sounds like!” she managed. Of course, such a denial didn’t do all that much to slow the spread of her new doll skin. It crept up her thighs and threatened to begin on her crotch, along with taking over her shoulders and changing those joints just like her knees and elbows. More and more of her was becoming a doll by the second, and she was too busy trying to rebut Medea’s comparisons to even think about how to get out of the situation.

“And that leads me to her next superiority over you. She’s so much… cuter, really. You’re so brash and aggressive, not cute at all. But she’s so graceful and so reserved, anyone could fall for her, couldn’t they?” Medea said. “Really, you’re so not-cute, it’s almost painful. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be exceptionally cute very soon~ I’ll dress you up in nice, feminine clothes like Artoria has, and you’ll certainly love that, won’t you?”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Mordred snapped. She meant it as she said it… but would she really hate it so much? Would it hurt so much to try on something cute? To maybe be a bit… nicer? She should have hated the very thought, but somehow, the idea of being dressed up in a pretty dress almost excited her. The porcelain ran over her hips, her crotch, smoothing away the imperfections… although it left a certain something in place, in case it might see future usage…

“If you want to be better than Artoria, why do you so specifically put yourself beneath her? Your mannerisms, your way of acting and speaking, what you wear - it’s like it’s all carefully crafted to be second-best, inferior to Artoria in every way that matters.”

Mordred wanted to deny it, she so desperately did. But… she couldn’t, really. She was Artoria’s inferior. She tried so hard to be better, but really, it just didn’t work. If she wanted to be better, then maybe she would have to be more like Artoria… the magic had wormed its way into her mind so thoroughly, leaving her with a dazed look in her eyes and blankly nodding along, that she could hardly notice that these weren’t her own thoughts.

“Yes… that’s right…” Medea said, as if reading her thoughts. “You should be more like Artoria. You want to be cute, right? Don’t you think that deep down, you’re really the kind of girl who’d love to spend all her time trying on cute dresses?”

Mordred nodded absently, starting to pull her clothes off. “...Yeah, that’s… that’s right. These rags won’t do, for a cute girl…” she said.

“That’s right. They’re way too revealing, too tight. Artoria is an icon of purity, and that means you are too. And a pure girl like you wouldn’t wear this, would she?” Medea prompted.

“...No, of course not…” Mordred nodded, starting to pull off her clothes right then and there. The doll skin had spread across most of her body, now, leaving mostly her upper chest and her head organic - and that was rapidly changing, as it creeped down her modest bust and up from her hips.

“Allow me. You needn’t bother yourself to change.” Medea said. Using her dagger, she neatly and precisely sliced Mordred’s clothes right off of her body, and using Rule Breaker to do it cut them from her spirit origin as well.

As the clothes fell to the floor, Medea was already offering her a new set of lingerie, fluffy and white, along with a familiar dress. “Oh, thank you, they look lovely…” Mordred said, a serene smile on her face as she started to put the clothes on (leaning on Medea for support). They were so cute, her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing them on her. One the lingerie was on, she pulled on the stockings, white with purple lace. Then, Medea helped her put on the main body of the dress, as well as tie the ribbon around her waist. The gloves came on next. By the time she was putting on the white choker, it marked where her human flesh ended and the porcelain began - but that changed quickly as the porcelain continued it’s unstoppable march across her skin.

Mordred saw herself in the mirror, and she couldn’t recognize herself. She was so… cute, so feminine. And she… loved it. What was her worry before? Why would she ever object to being so perfect?

“You look perfect, darling…” Medea complimented. “Now, you’re very delicate, and so is your dress. But I know I don’t have to worry. You’re not the kind of person who goes around getting herself into danger, are you? Even if you were fine, it might ruin your cute outfit.”

Wasn’t she? The Servant looked at herself. She remembered fighting, kinda. She remembered getting into scrapes. But… she certainly didn’t look the part. She wasn’t that kind of girl, really. Mordred was, but… it was harder and harder to remember just who Mordred actually was. “I… I look great… but…”

“Shush, love.” Medea whispered. “You don’t have to worry what people will think. Everyone will love it, as much as I do. All you have to do is listen to me, and stay with me, and you don’t have to worry about anything anymore. But I know you will, Artoria. After all, you’re the type who’s very subservient to your Mistress and lover, aren’t you?”

The Saber-class servant froze in place, her eyes glazing over as the magic assaulted her mind one last time. Medea was her Master, she held her contract. But that wasn’t all. She was… her lover. Her beloved Mistress, who she loved to obey with all her heart. And Medea loved her right back, protecting her fragile porcelain body. The porcelain rapidly rose up the girl’s face, her head completely turned into a doll’s as Medea gently re-styled her hair, tying it into a ponytail with another purple ribbon. Even her hair changed, separating from her head as a wig. Medea loved her beloved… Artoria.

Mordred’s identity barely resisted as it was snuffed, replaced completely. As her eyes cleared, the doll wasn’t Mordred anymore. The foul mouthed, brutish Saber was gone. In her place was a lovely doll named Artoria, the embodiment of every one of Medea’s fantasies. “...Of course, my love. I serve you with all my heart and soul. I couldn’t ask for a better Mistress!” Artoria said enthusiastically.

“I love you just as much, Artoria…” Medea said, wrapping her arms around her new Servant. “That’s why we’re getting married, isn’t it? Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I do.” Artoria said. Even if she hadn’t, her Mistress had said they did, so obviously they did. After all, Artoria’s whole world was defined only in its relation to Medea. “I couldn’t be happier, truly.” She let her hand rest on Medea’s, before guiding it down to her bust.

Medea let herself enjoy the moment for a bit. Then, she smiled, looking to the bed. “I believe, my lovely wife… that it is about time we consummate our love, isn’t it?”

“Of course…” Artoria said. “I’d love to.” She strolled over to the bed, and sat waiting for Medea to come to her. She was sure her love would be gentle, and looked forward to the night to come.

As Medea followed her to the bed, she couldn’t have been happier. The other Artoria had truly come through for her. She hadn’t been sure it was possible, but she’d given her the perfect gift, the greatest happiness she could imagine. Artoria was hers, and nobody else’s - she was so happy, she hardly even remembered that she had been someone else moments before. Who she’d been didn’t matter, and she didn’t bother to recall. Now she was Artoria, or at least Medea’s twisted idea of Artoria. A fact written into her very spirit origin, forever.

-----

The King of Knights wondered what she’d find when she returned to her room, the two hours of warding off any potential interruptions now behind her. She hadn’t asked too many questions about Medea’s plans when she offered her the deal. After all, once it was complete, it wouldn’t be her problem anymore. She had her suspicions - Medea was… consistent, in what she wanted. But as she opened the door, she had no real idea what she’d find.

Whatever her suspicions were, they hadn’t been that she’d find her room decked out for a wedding. It wasn’t a huge thing, but Medea had draped the walls in white flowers, and somehow found an old school wedding arch laced in ivy. A red carpet had been laid out beneath it.

There were no ministers or other officials, but a wedding was on all the same. Medea stood in the arch, holding hands and staring into the eyes of a young woman. Artoria felt a bit… strange, as she looked at the blushing bride to be. She knew that it had to be Mordred, but she looked identical to Artoria now, if with a slightly different hair style. There wasn’t much of Mordred left, in appearance or in her attitude - or even her physical body, as Artoria now realized her body was clearly not a human’s. Her skin seemed too flawless, and… a bit too stiff? And now that she looked closer, she had visible joints like a doll’s.

Neither Medea nor the living doll seemed to notice Artoria’s entrance, too focused on each other to see anything else. “Medea, my love, I pledge myself to you as your loving Servant, and as your wife, from this day forth… I will serve your every want and desire, and be by your side forever.” The former Mordred said, even her voice a mirror of Artoria’s, albeit a version filled to the brim with love and devotion.

“Artoria, in turn, I pledge myself to you. As your caring Mistress, as your loving wife. I will take care of your every need and wish, and take care of you forever…” Medea said back.

The two were having a wedding, right there in Artoria’s room. The real Artoria’s room, that was. The specification was clearly needed. Evidently, Medea had had no interest in keeping any part of Mordred. She was closer to the likes of Lily and Lancer Artoria now than she was to the knight of treachery.

Their somewhat twisted vows complete, the couple stared into each other’s eyes a bit more for what felt like minutes. Eventually, Medea continued. “By my authority as your Mistress, I declare us married. I may now kiss my bride~” she giggled, leaning in and kissing the doll deeply, who returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Eventually, as hands roamed and it became clear something she didn’t need to see would happen if she didn’t intervene. She coughed politely, and the two… didn’t bother to disentangle themselves, but Medea’s hands stopped trying to untie the ex-Mordred’s dress ribbon, and the doll looked over to Artoria.

“Oh! I didn’t know we had someone watching.” the doll said, slowly and reluctantly pulling herself from Medea. She still held her new bride’s hand as she curtsied, though. “I feel we’ve met before, but not properly, so I’ll introduce myself. My name is Artoria! Mistress told me a lot about you. Thank you so much for helping us be together!”

“...Your welcome.” Artoria said after a while. It was strange on several levels, seeing Mordred be so kind, look so gentle. Or rather, another version of herself. “Medea. I take it that our agreement has been fulfilled to your satisfaction?”

“Of course. I could hardly be happier!” Medea said cheerily. “I have a lovely bride of my own, now… although you’ll always hold a place in my heart, I have to give my new wife priority for my attentions~”

“Aw~ That’s sweet~” Doll-Artoria said, planting a quick kiss on Medea’s mouth.

Artoria nodded, looking back for a moment to the doll. She really was unrecognizable, wasn’t she? But… it was for the best, really. Mordred had been a pest to more than just Artoria. And Medea being able to focus on combat instead of molestation would allow both her and Artoria to fight at their fullest ability. In the combat calculus that went into the fight to save humanity, it was an easy price to pay. Besides, she seemed much nicer in this form.

“Oh, Artoria-” the doll said as the knight turned to leave. “Wait just a second, I have a gift.” Artoria raised an eyebrow, wondering what she might have so soon after being created. The question was quickly answered, as she summoned a familiar blade. Clarent was far too heavy for the doll, and she nearly dropped it as she dragged it over to Artoria. “I’m just a fragile doll, not a warrior king like you. My place is at home, preparing for Mistress’ return, not on a battlefield. I think you could make far better use of this than I ever could.”

Artoria took the blade, looking at it with surprise. She hadn’t expected that - she wasn’t sure what she’d do with it, but she’d find a use for such a powerful weapon. “...Thank you very much… Artoria.” she said, nodding in appreciation. “I’ll put it to good use.”

Doll-Artoria returned to Medea’s side, clinging to her arm once again and beaming at Artoria. “It’s the least I can do as thanks for making our love possible. If you don’t mind, I’d love to have tea with you soon. Perhaps after you return from your next battle?”

Artoria was originally going to say no, but paused. There was no reason not to try and have a better relationship with this new version of Mordred than she’d had with the original. “...Very well. I’m sure Lily would also love to meet you.” Perhaps she could bring the pair a ‘wedding gift’, something to cement the new relationship and make sure that Medea keeps up her end of the bargain.

“And I her!”

“Now, now…” Medea said, wrapping an arm around the doll. “I’ll bring Artoria to my own room. We have some… important business to attend.” Doll-Artoria giggled like a schoolgirl in response. “Thank you very much for offering me this opportunity. I’ll come help clean up later-”

“You can enjoy yourself. It’s no matter.” Artoria said sharply.

“Can’t blame someone for trying.” Medea said, before guiding her new lover out of the room, and towards their new existence...