Chapter Text
“Saber… you don’t have to do this. You could wish to stay here… create a new life for yourself. You can-”
“If I recall correctly, it is my sword that has undone our enemies. If you wanted a say in this matter, you should have fought by my side with a weapon in hand,”
Arturia could wish for a second life, but she wouldn’t. Such a luxury was not befitting of a woman so unworthy of her kingship, or so she thought. The woman knew her words were harsh. However, no matter the loyalty she held for her master, her heart still belonged to her country, even centuries after her downfall. It was ironic, she thought. Such a selfless, perfect person, held a selfish and foolish wish. Even Iskander’s slander, though hurtful, could not sway her unwavering belief, nor that conceited man’s affront laughter.
The woman sauntered towards the golden chalice, her master falling silent. Her soft fingers wrapped around the cup’s hilt, a taut grip ascending it towards her gaze. Her victories amounted to this, to the satisfaction of bringing her hopes to fruition. Her success resided in her hands, yet an ominous undertone plagued the moment. The former king’s emerald eyes laid unwavering upon the grail, her actions betraying her instincts.
Arturia turned around herself, her eyes locking with her master’s. “Thank you, master, I…” words evaded her. Her mind spiraled in thought, saddened that her time in this era was ending, even if her wish was finally being granted. Her master’s solemn expression left her speechless, his irate gaze underlined by unmistakable melochaly. It was said the King never understood her subject’s emotions, though now it seemed she understood too well. Her actions were burdened by her master’s expression, but she had come so far. Too far. Her dream was in reach, and she’d take it, even if hated. It’s what she had to do, she told herself. It’s what she had always told herself.
“I’m sorry, master.” she finished, her voice cracking. It was a genuine apology, but failed to rectify her actions. Nothing could, and she painfully realized that. Unexpectedly, the man mustered a weak smile, untainted by any former adversity.
“If this is your wish, I will not burden you with my sadness. I hope you are content with your decision,” his gentle tone pierced her skin. Suddenly, she understood Lancelot’s lunacy. Unpunished by the person you wronged was a pain she had never known, and it crashed down upon her with unparalleled force. Tears began forming, but a grin curled her lips. Arturia nodded. With not another word to him, the grail now occupied her attention.
“I wish… to live in an era devoid of my kingship. To spare my people their suffering!” her declarant tone was unmistakable. It was a king’s voice, no matter how she scorned herself. The woman brought the cup to her lips, the grail’s contents sliding down her throat. Her grip upon the chalice never relented, even as she brought it away. Her body slowly began fading, minute golden particles taking the place of her limbs. It did not hurt, and satisfaction finally eased her.
“Thank you, master…” the woman, the king, was no longer in sight.