♐ ] What was his duty but hardship all in all. The struggle to manage, to overcome regardless of circumstances whilst bearing with conditions set upon him. This is nothing new to the man, he knows this feeling all too well. Protection was minimal but doable, as bruises began to mount and their numbers thin. Bloody and battered however, eventually a path is paved. A route to the surface secured, though it was only then when realization hits. He stood alone, while the most important thing to him was missing. Had she taken it upon herself to keep at the bottom? Was she truly a fool after what he said? Words would reserve themselves for when he meets her again, if such a possibility still existed as he dashes to see what became of her.
Numbers had seemingly multiplied further in his absence. He could no longer avoid the possibility, it had been but a certainty now he must use a projection. Though the question as to what dawned on him, as he stares at the maws of death in his face. With what seemed to be a horde before him, his weapons of choice were definitely of no use. Taking the second to think, he’d recall his own dated advice. Something he could use to defeat them. Something he could use that could bring him victory. Imagine something that would beat them all. Open hand soon shines, as materializing weapon gleams with the answer. He knows not this weapon consciously as it’s craft is unfamiliar to, but he knows what it can do. Two hands would soon grasp it, as he would soon enough call on it’s strength for one single swing.
WHAT HURT HER MORE BEYOND THE BROKEN SKIN; BEYOND THE BRUTAL BITE OF THE BEAST – was the grief of losing him. Things were not supposed to end this way. Despite wielding the parameters of a nigh-divine spirit, without the lance that shone to the ends of the earth, her one-on-one combat capabilities – in territory uncontested – could not be met with adequacy.
Consequentially, open wounds festered in the ocean’s brine 'til he arrived. Foolishly, at that, despite her earnest endeavor to part with him sans disclosure. After all, what relevancy did her inability to swim have when the lives of countless others were on the line? They were both saviors well-acquainted with sacrifice – Heroes of the Throne. Reincarnation was but one of immortality’s endless merits. The innocents could not be spoken for the same way; they deserved another chance.
This world was simply too beautiful for loss. Even with this realm being what it was, even with the things left unsaid, even with the thought of never seeing him again… so long as others could be spared, she alone could perish. She –… she did not need saving, after all. Arturia has never needed saving, and never has she been saved.
So forgive her when he shatters her perception of reality and all she ever thought it to be.
This light… she knew it. She knows it. As if it were a prayer recited nightly, etched unto the backs of closed palms. She knows this exaltation. The manner in which it eradicates the unholy yet basks her in its glory – how? How is it that he knows it?
“Ex…calibur?”
No, that was not possible. It couldn’t be. Yet, within the void of her soulless carapace, she knows it to be true. Though the memories splinter painfully like shattered glass, they slowly piece together a name she never uttered.
“…Shi…rou?”
Who was —– ? Why does it seem to belong in her memories, and why is she only now recalling it in her final moments? Emiya’s shadow closes in on her, but her consciousness begins to fade.
Alas, the pain inflicted by an ill-conceived remembrance and the pressure capsizing her lungs proves far too great to endure. Lips part as if to mouth words, but none arrive as the sea completes its duty in consuming her.
