“Gil..”
A sob, needy and almost afraid, and she has to reach up a hand to cover her mouth despite herself. Gilgamesh nibbles at that hand until it feels the need to jerk away, and it slips hesitantly instead to rest by the side of his face. He takes her free hand, intertwines their fingers and pins it above her head again, deliberately squeezing so that Saber’s misty gaze is drawn. Her flushed frame quivers beneath his scrutinizing gaze, and for added measures, Gilgamesh makes certain that their eyes meet.
“.. Gil..!”
Release finds the Britain king with a name on her lips and her hand held tightly. In that moment, with that last plea hanging in the soft breeze and in their ears, Gilgamesh loves her more than anything.