"No. I don't," she said, firm with her resolve on that point at least, for a brief, very brief, moment, the fire back in her eyes, "I don't deserve better. If endless fighting would have saved Camelot I still would have done it gladly!"
Of that much she was certain. She'd been willing to give up her very soul to save Camelot. Still would in a heartbeat if she had the chance, if she would know for certain Camelot would be safe afterward.
But there were things he said, the way he said it that only twisted the knife deeper. Haughty and prideful and forever looking down on everyone, that's how she remembered Archer from what little she knew of him. Not this, voice trembling and upset and so much like Shirou it only made her stomach twist further. That downcast look didn't suit him and for a brief second some part of her could almost see him as Shirou, but that was wrong. wrongwrongwrong. This sort of life wasn't suited to Shirou. Her mind refused to believe it, refused to accept it, even as it felt like her heart was being cut out of her chest and it got harder to breathe.
The only thing keeping her upright was sheer stubbornness and a need to prove, somehow, she deserved every bit of hell she was given. Anything to distract herself (or impale herself) on the knife twisting horribly through her heart.
"...If.... if I could have saved someone--anyone--I would do it all over again. What happens to me doesn't matter." Because who, in the end, did she ever save if all she did was damn everyone who came into contact with her?
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Of that much she was certain. She'd been willing to give up her very soul to save Camelot. Still would in a heartbeat if she had the chance, if she would know for certain Camelot would be safe afterward.
But there were things he said, the way he said it that only twisted the knife deeper. Haughty and prideful and forever looking down on everyone, that's how she remembered Archer from what little she knew of him. Not this, voice trembling and upset and so much like Shirou it only made her stomach twist further. That downcast look didn't suit him and for a brief second some part of her could almost see him as Shirou, but that was wrong. wrongwrongwrong. This sort of life wasn't suited to Shirou. Her mind refused to believe it, refused to accept it, even as it felt like her heart was being cut out of her chest and it got harder to breathe.
The only thing keeping her upright was sheer stubbornness and a need to prove, somehow, she deserved every bit of hell she was given. Anything to distract herself (or impale herself) on the knife twisting horribly through her heart.
"...If.... if I could have saved someone--anyone--I would do it all over again. What happens to me doesn't matter." Because who, in the end, did she ever save if all she did was damn everyone who came into contact with her?