sweethymns | ғaтe/alт.dιѕтorтιon

[ There's a futility about this all, a melancholy that runs under the battle that Lancer is catching on to: there's no glory for his Master, even if he should win this fight, no overarching victory they can be sure of, no definitive conclusion. He's caught on to the fact that the initial lack of prana isn't due to an ace up his sleeve, that the absence of Saber's Master isn't a plan or a scheme.

Whatever this is, it's a hollow war. But that doesn't exempt them from their duties, nor their fate.

Lancer pivots and crouches, ducking a flurry of blades before pushing up on his knees and going for what he thinks can be a definitive strike— a glow of red, energy surging from his palm up through his spear. This isn't the victory that he would have wanted, but it's a victory that he'll take, if he can. ]

[Even in spite of his wounds, Saber's senses remain sharp enough to discern the energy coming from Lancer's Noble Phantasm. He uses his longer katana to block and the shorter blade flies towards Diarmuid's side.

It's been an exciting and adrenaline rushing battle. Saber wouldn't have asked for more. And considering the circumstances, he couldn't have in the first place. The Frenchman was in a war that wasn't his, one where he would have to lose and return to whence he came with some indignity that comes from inevitable failure. He doesn't feel bad about the futility in the end and when he goes, it would be because he fought with all he had. The extra strength from the previous Command Spell is helping him to ignore the raw pain from his wounds and he prepares for another cut into his opponent, his own blood gleaming as red as the hue on Lancer's weapon...]

SABER!!!

[Ai Thao looks to the source of the voice and gasps when she sees the young boy. In an instant, she understands, understands why Saber protected his Master vehemently, why he was fighting a hopeless fight. This boy was no magus, and no threat to her except for what was on his right hand. One Spell left. Saber briefly glances over in shock and shoves himself off of his opponent to jump backwards and stand in front of the boy. There was a distance where he was in between Diarmuid and his Master due to the command where he could not fully return to his side until the battle was done.]

Master! The battle has yet to finish...!

[The boy was shaking and his eyes were beginning to fill up with tears.]

I can't... I can't believe I was going to let you...

[He couldn't believe he was sending out a friend to die. And before he would let any of them react...]

SABER!! My final command... ATTACK LANCER'S MASTER!

WHAT!? HNNNNGH!!!

[Saber's eyes widen and he nearly doubles over from the force of the final Command Spell. Against all odds, he doesn't immediately react to the compelling order, but the pain suddenly feels even more real. He's made to stand up straight, looking at Ai Thao who at first looks at him fearfully, but then activates her Mystic Eyes, already prepared to defend herself...]

Ah. C'est la vie.

[He cannot ignore the final command. His back is turned and he cannot see his Master's tears of regret and confusion over what he just made his Servant do.

The next few seconds are an eternity, the scenery blurred, and any noise is muted out. Saber rushes at Ai Thao. Her Eyes distort the ground, explicitly avoiding Lancer. The flying debris barely slows him down. He's in front of her. His blade is drawn. Saber looks into this young woman's eyes, praying that he only hurts her slightly, admiring the inner strength that was gracious to him even though he was her enemy, praying to God Almighty that her knight does not let him die with the shame of putting the blade to her throat...]

[ He can't say that he didn't see it coming.

It's not anger or fear that wells in his gut upon hearing the command— he knows a child in distress when he sees one, knows when someone unfamiliar with fighting laments it for the sake of lamenting it— the prevailing sentiment is sadness, a quiet but calm cold that sweeps his heart and sends a jolt of pain across his chest.

(He thinks he remembers something, his own voice: "it was just that fate dealt difficult hands in my lifetime". How distressing that Saber should feel the same, to any degree.)

There's no one to blame for any of this, but Diarmuid doesn't spare Saber's Master a second glance as he kicks forward, blood staining his footsteps as he bolts and sidewinds to get between Saber and Ai. He can feel the quiet regret piercing daggers into the air, but his duty is to Ai and he would never forgive himself if he let his own weakness of heart take her life.

The sword extended towards his Master stops before it can do any real damage, stopped by Diarmuid's spear and his arm. The river of blood isn't Ai's, but Saber's— regrettable, but definitive. ]

[The silence that settles upon them and throughout the temple is stifling. The younger Master falls to his knees at the sight of Saber's end. Ai feels her heart freeze and covers her mouth as Diarmuid's attack shows its results.

It hurts. Of course it would. Saber didn't expect any more or any less, but there is a sadness to his eyes despite his grin of jest that he gave when he confronted the pair.[

... Ha.

[Saber calmly and slowly sheathes his other blade. He looks at Diarmuid and Ai and gives them a nod.]

It is finished.

[There's a small plop on the ground and Ai looks down. Her choker had been sliced open and it fell from her neck.

Saber obeyed his Master to the very end.]

Rest at your Throne. The others will be pleased to know that you've returned.

[ There's a reverence that Lancer feels required to give, in spite of it all: a quiet moment where the digs his lance into the ground and bows his head briefly, for a fallen warrior that he recognizes as a worthy adversary.

Hand curled over the handle of his weapon and the other against the wound in his side to stem the bleeding, he closes his eyes for a few seconds before opening them with a slow flutter, turning towards Ai with slight urgency. ]

...Are you hurt?

[Saber gives an affirmative nod and as he releases himself from the lance. He continues to bleed. But he slowly makes his way back to his Master, his blood seeping into the earth. There are some last words to be said even if the sorrow was too much to bear...

Ai opens her mouth as if to call out to Saber, but stops. Saber and his Master are left alone to spend his last moments together. She can't hear their words, but she can only hope he's giving the boy some comfort despite his end. His body is beginning to disappear...

Lancer's words, turns her focus back to him. She purses her lips when she sees his wound and then takes a hold of his arm without reservation, pulling him closer to her. Instead of answering his question, her other hand is placed over his wound to heal it.]

[ There's a moment he considers apologizing, but he can tell that it'd be a lost cause and he can tell that it's not something she'd want to hear, especially not with her hands slick with his blood. His pride as a knight and his steadfastness as a Servant prevents him from taking the one free arm that's by his side and wrapping it around her, but he does smile into the crown of her head, bows his own and lets his jaw brush the top of her hair, gently. ]

Just a scratch.

[ It's a quiet statement made with quieter consideration, but he lets her heal him and stays close. ]

[The last remains of Saber's being has disappeared and the young boy also retreats. It's a bitter victory, but it was theirs nonetheless.

Her mood would have been heavier had it not been for his gentle words and their closeness and touch. And instead of telling herself to reject it (before she was afraid anything she tried would be hopeless, completely useless), Ai lets him be near her.

After all, if the battle with Saber reminded her of anything, it was how their time together, unknown as it was, was limited.]

... You did well.

[His wound is completely healed she doesn't linger over it, but she does move her hand up to his shoulder. She sighs softly, leaning against his chest.]

Thank you.

[ Her thanks isn't necessary, but he takes it with humility, remembers it for the compliment that it is. Her hand at his shoulder and her weight against his chest is staggering, and he hesitates for a moment before reciprocating the action with reverence, with a hand against her shoulderblades. ]

...Victory for my Master.

[ He says, an edge of a laugh creeping into his voice, as he closes his eyes and rests his chin against the side of Ai's head. ]

My apologies for taking so long.

[She lingers for a moment, allowing this one moment of selfishness. Then she takes a step back letting go of him. Her expression gentle and quietly proud.]

Let's go back then. Shall we?

[ A hand goes to his side, and it comes back clean; completely healed. Nodding, he reaches down and picks up the severed choker, folding it in his palm before turning back towards Ai. ]

Back home, then.

[ He uses that word, "home", and tilts his head amiably. ]

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