[Gilgamesh is not entirely without his kinder moments. He can't live in a world of sympathy and softness, but sometimes he can dip his toes in and pretend that he was so good and just once. He can jest that he's a knight and mean it in part. Only kings wore gold, only the most noble wielded it as their standard. He's Seelie. Honor, or at least his personal form of it, still stands above all else.

So his hands come to rest upon hers, and now he's beginning to understand why Dorian greets her in this way, why he adores her with these pleasantly warm touches. More than a symbol of friendship, it forms a bond, a connection deeper than flash, and they are all creatures so desperate for it they could not live without. For Gilgamesh, it's literally his entire existence, what keeps him in the world.

There's power in his grip now. He could harm her. He could help her. He could crush what's left of her dreams or build them back up again. He must decide.]

I have seen despair, Hermione. Despair to swallow a world. But it never claims people like you.

[That's what makes Saber such an aberration. She's a mistake. She must be repaired. Erased. Hermione was different. She wouldn't fall so far.]

You are you. I am me. In our mind and in our memories, we remain ourselves, in spite of everything.

[She won't fall, because even if she did, Gilgamesh would be the only one to push her.]