She'd been about to make a remark that she was still a knight, even if she'd essentially stripped the title herself. Even if the ideals rang hollow to her now they were still in there, somewhere. They were still a part of who she was.
But before she could even begin to form a sentence, Archer brought up the Grail and its taint and how it should not have granted a wish like hers and she began to laugh. There was something so funny about what he said even if she had no idea what. So funny it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing her heart at once and it was hard to tell if she was crying or not. It was like a damn inside her heart had burst, centuries upon centuries of pain pouring out against her will:
Too tainted? Too tainted to grant her wish?
"Why would it not grant my wish when that very wish meant that filth could consume Camelot, Archer?"
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But before she could even begin to form a sentence, Archer brought up the Grail and its taint and how it should not have granted a wish like hers and she began to laugh. There was something so funny about what he said even if she had no idea what. So funny it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing her heart at once and it was hard to tell if she was crying or not. It was like a damn inside her heart had burst, centuries upon centuries of pain pouring out against her will:
Too tainted? Too tainted to grant her wish?
"Why would it not grant my wish when that very wish meant that filth could consume Camelot, Archer?"