Precious and few are the moments

[swordedpast]

Characters: Archer (swordedpast), Avenger as Shirou (destructiveprinciple/heroicprinciple), and Saber of White (no_longer_a_king)
Setting: Outside room 3-16, the morning of April 20th.
Format: Prose for now.
Summary: In the aftermath of the event, Archer seeks relief from his guilt and rage in the only way he knows how.
Warnings: Violence, self-loathing, and death.

The message left for Shirou is like a gauntlet thrown down. Which is suitable enough, since Archer was wearing gauntlets himself pretty recently.

Meet me outside my room. 3-16. As soon as morning breaks.

Whatever morning may be in this tower, Archer knows well enough Shirou's habits of waking up early to greet it. After all, they're the same as his once were. Now, he rarely sleeps anymore, so it doesn't matter for him. In fact, he's spent this past night, since being returned with his mind intact (such as it ever is), brooding on all the least convenient floors.

That's over with now, though. He's prepared to make amends for what he's done. Not that he really can, but this is the next best thing.

He'll cut Shirou down, and then Arturia will arrive, the Saber in white, and cut him down. Maybe he'll keep repeating the process afterwards--that would be nice. Anything to eliminate all traces of Shirou Emiya from this tower and all of existence.

Comments

[no_longer_a_king]

And she does. She can't think, not like this. All that matters is Shirou is dead dead dead and it doesn't register to her that he'll be alive again come the morning. In her mind she's back in the church, Kotomine telling her she'd done well, and Archer has Shirou's blood on his swords.

He blocks Caliburn, but with a sound that's half roar and half misery she brings Caliburn up and swings it in a wide arc to strike at his side. It's sloppy. So horribly sloppy, but she's running on pain and instinct and she's just too damned tired and numb to care. What Archer says doesn't even register to her. All that matters is she needs to stop the thing that hurt Shirou, the thing responsible for Shirou's pain.

Maybe then the pain will finally stop, even if she knows deep in her heart it'll only make it worse. She doesn't even have the excuse of Saber's curse eating away at her mind: this pain? This rage? It's all her and no one else.

[swordedpast]

It should be easy for him to block that stroke of the sword. Instead, he barely gets to it in time. Why? Hasn't he always wanted to face Saber as an equal in battle?

But not like this.

"You're not doing your best, Saber." His voice is a bit calmer now, but it still has more than a hint of a snarl. "I'm no swordsman and I managed to block that. Try harder!"

She's coming at him with a sword even he could barely project if he tried. She's coming at him in a rage. Saber shouldn't be like this, even if she's not Saber any longer. He shouldn't be using her this way.

That only reaffirms his determination, though. He needs to die, at least for a little while, and Saber should be the one to land the killing blow.

He lashes out with his swords once more, all brute strength and anger, no technique.

[no_longer_a_king]

This is not a battle of equals. This can't even be called a proper battle, not really. This is suicide on Archer's part in more ways than one. Arturia just happens to be the instrument with which he chose to die.

Through the pain and rage his words reach her and this time they wound her pride, one of the few things she still clings to. One of the few things keeping her sane. The sword in her hands is one Shirou had projected when they fought Berserker together and defeated him.

Maybe that's why she was twisted by the world so: to constantly remind her of what she had done.

In this state instinct takes over and Saber was practically born for the art of the sword. She dodges his swords easily, twisting to the side. His blade manages to cut the hem of one of her skirts, but that doesn't matter. It'll repair itself in time. Arturia manages to get behind him and swings Caliburn, aiming to pierce him through the back, all her rage strengthening the blow to be sure it'll get through his armor.

[swordedpast]

No, it's not a battle. It's just a bloody mess. In that, it's not unlike the fight that just took place. The one that left Shirou lying dead on the floor behind Archer now.

Archer swings Kanshou and Bakuya once more, but the movement is slow. He was distracted: distracted by the beautiful blade Saber wields. Caliburn. The lost sword that he once, so long ago, saw in dreams. In his rage, he slips long enough to let himself think, maybe it's not so bad if I can be cut down by something so beautiful--

The sword leaves his vision even as he thinks that, and he snaps out of it. She's behind him now. That's no good. Archer spins around to meet her.

With his speed, he has time to do that before her blow lands. But he doesn't have time to actually lift his swords to block the blow.

Caliburn cuts through his armor with a crack and slices into his chest. Archer staggers and slides forward on the blade, then smiles faintly, distantly.

[no_longer_a_king]

That smile.

It's so much like Shirou's it makes her heart break all over again and in an instant the pained look on her face changes to one of sheer horror. Archer is among one of the many possible futures Shirou could have had and now he's on her blade and smiling at her in a way that is so reminiscent of how Shirou looked at her before he kissed her.

"Ar-Archer....?" her voice is faint and that's when it clicks in her head.

Archer knew she had been coming to speak with him.

Archer knew how seeing Shirou dead would affect her.

She looks up at his face, the sense of betrayal, the sense of being used breaking a dam within her and tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Arturia does not sob. She does not wail. The tears spill down her cheeks as she reaches out for his shoulder and, with some effort, pulls Caliburn from his chest.

"Why...?" she asks as she eases him to the floor. Something amidst her warring emotions screams at her to keep him from falling, at least, to let him have some peace as he dies.

[swordedpast]

He doesn't fall. He just sags forward a little. One hand suddenly grasps at Arturia's shoulder.

It's not that he's afraid of the darkness coming at him. Even before he was in a place where he'd come back again and again, Archer hadn't feared death in a very long time. It's just an acquaintance dropping by at this point.

He struggles to speak around the growing sense of disconnection from his body, around the blood bubbling up in his throat and trickling from his mouth. He manages a little. "...you had that wish once. Destroy everything of myself...it's way better that way. I--" He chokes on blood before he can continue.

But Archer still looks up at her with a pure smile. "Saber..." He gets his voice back for a few seconds. It's so close to Shirou's voice. "Don't cry."

He lifts one hand, now free of any swords, and tries to touch her cheek. He wants to wipe away those tears. But he doesn't have the strength. His hand slides down to his side. "Ah, sorry."

It's not as if his eyes weren't empty before, but now what light there was fades from them.