[He's expecting an argument. A fight. Disagreement, of some kind. Accusations. You became a monster, you did the worst sorts of things, I could never join myself with you. He could picture such words from the mouth of the Saber he knew, bloody and speared through the leg on account of his own violence. He could see it. He could grasp it, unlike so much of everything else that's transpired here.

But he hears something different. Hears... understanding, so rarely shown to him by anyone else, from someone he never would've thought might extend it to him. Of course, he doesn't need it. She's right. Regardless of his behavior in the future, he was the same person. He refused to believe he fell into madness, that he acted without just cause. If he unleashed wickedness upon the world, surely there was reason for it.

A reason like his growing hatred for humanity, nursed throughout their war. But for the moment, the truth of it remains beyond him. Saber spares him, and he heeds it.]

It was...

[Gilgamesh grapples, visibly. Like her, he's still trying to reconcile her status as former enemy with current and future ally. Words that were once venomous are now quiet.]

Thoughtful of you to come today. What we once were, we may never be again, but what we stand to become—I look forward to it.

[Gilgamesh calls one of his staff over. Gilgamesh takes the plate from their hands, a plate full of sugar dumplings, and offers it to Saber. This, more than their hasty pact forged in the basement and upon the tower, seems to be a true offering of peace. ...and, well, he does know something about her nature: easily hungry.]

Hail, King of Knights, Artoria Pendragon. May her glory be known in this world as any other.