γVery well.γHe murmured, silver eyes steady.γFrom this moment, I stand with you. Not as a weapon. Not as a tool. As Emiya Shirou.γ
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Archerβs body went still at the sound of that name, as though the weight of it had slipped past his armor and struck bone. His eyes lowered to the fist extended toward him, to the Command Seal burning like a sun against skin scarred by battle.
For the first time, the sardonic edge faded from his face. He looked at Bruss not as a Master, not as some stranger wielding ideals too large for mortal hands, but as a fellow foolβone who bore the same stubborn fire in his chest.
Archer tilted his head back, following that gaze skyward, though his eyes held no aweβonly the practiced calm of a man whoβd stared at horizons and found no answers waiting. His silence lingered, carried by the sigh of the wind through steel and glass.
γWondering is fine.γHe said at last, voice edged with a dry sort of patience.γBut it only takes you in circles. The world wonβt stop moving just because youβre busy staring past it.γ
γDonβt get used to this. Once is a concession. Twice is indulgence. Three timesβ¦γHis voice dropped lower, edged like drawn steel.γβ¦would be treason.γ
For a heartbeat, Archer considered brushing her offβmuscle memory from countless battles urging resistance. Yet the insistent tug of her hands, the stubborn weight of her small frame pressing him down, coaxed something else from him instead.
teasing her too much.
βBecause you don't believe me, I might as well show you how serious I am, right?β
She was doing her best to lead his body to kneel for her even if he resisted, but she wouldn't force him if the tall Archer would swat her hands or anything.
The crimson coat pooled around him like a banner lowered in surrender, the white cords at his chest straining as his shoulders took her grip. He tilted his head just enough to cast her a sidelong look, eyes glinting beneath dark lashes, half-chiding and half-indulgent.
His cloak shifted as he straightened, that dangerous stillness radiating off him like the taut string of an unseen bow.γIf youβre serious, Saiyanβ¦ then yes. Iβll answer as your Servantββββ.γ
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Archer studied him in silence, ashen gaze unflinching, the way one might regard a fire that threatened to consume everything yet somehow offered warmth. The air between them hung heavy, thick with conviction and the raw edge of vulnerability that few ever bared before him.
His tone carried no malice, only the weight of lived truth. Still, the corner of his mouth lifted, wry, resigned.γButβ¦ if youβve chosen that road, then I know it well enough to walk it beside you. Just donβt expect me to be the kind of guardian who feeds you comforting lies.γ
Archer didnβt flinch beneath her gaze; those ocean eyes sought to pierce, but he had weathered storms fiercer than sentiment. Still, something softened in his expression, a fleeting warmth slipping past the armor of cynicism.
β Those years passed, Archerβ¦ itβs been a while. β She tilted her cranium, teasing him now just a little.
β Thoughβ¦ I canβt say they were easy. You mightβve made it easier if youβd been around~. β
Lips curled into a genuine smile.
β I missed you, π±π°πΊπ°. β
γYou always were too quick to blame me.γHe replied, voice low, touched with that dry sarcasm that refused to vanish even now. Yet there was no sting in itβonly the echo of familiarity, the cadence of an old rhythm they had once shared.
Archerβs eyes narrowed, the faint gleam of his ashen irises catching the dim light as if measuring Brussβs words against the weight of memory. His lips curved into something that wasnβt quite a smile, more like the faint trace of a scar reopening.
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@scornedvow
"So you're the famed Archer, I mean I've met a variant of you. But knowing servants don't remember what happens when they were last summoned. I take it you're different?"
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γββββBut if youβve met another Archer, donβt mistake me for him. Iβm only ever myself.γHe shifted slightly, posture loose but blade-calloused hands never straying far from where a bow could appear in an instant.