[Gilgamesh chuckles to himself, as if to say is that so? and it's not forgiveness that she gets but it's something. An agreement that they've come to an understanding with each other, that they've seen the worst of each other and know how to get at those tiny little holes and jam fingers in until it hurts. She'd managed it with him, too, manages it again now.

You don't need to be a king.

And that's why Gilgamesh must leave. That's why this isn't a place for him anymore and it was never a home to begin with. He runs his fingers over his beloved crowns, remembers the words he'd always hold dear to his heart from Treun. You are the brightest star of your own sky. You must make them believe.

He looks over his shoulder at her, and that smile's turned a touch bitter.]

I will always be King, Hermione. I was born with a crown upon my head. I must sit upon a throne or else be cursed to languish. But...

[Had he really gone mad, in a different time, in a different place, drowning in the Grail? He shakes his head; no, it's too late for that. He still refuses the idea of it.]

I've never been anything more or less than myself. So I'll just be me, and you'll just be you, and it's fine that way. Right?

[It's fine, courting this silly little girl who he's decided to marry someday anyway in the fondest sort of grudge.]