theloudestsaber | [For Dio] Blood-Born Grudge Curses

[For Dio] Blood-Born Grudge Curses

"Fa...father..."

That had been her last spoken word as a living, breathing being. She could never call herself a 'human', but still. She had walked the Earth and lived, once. Frankly, she was almost glad that she had died young. Her lifespan wouldn't have been that long anyway had she beaten Arthur at Camlann.

But that was all irrelevant, really.

Cursed as a Heroic Spirit - yes, she considered it a curse - Mordred sat upon the Throne of Heroes, forced to answer to the summons of a human mage when one met the necessary conditions to call upon her. Of course Mordred would not answer the call of just anyone. It would take a rather spectacular mage to call upon her. There were other Knights of the Round Table who could answer the call.

But there came such a summons one day. Mordred felt the pull stronger than any other summons she had felt over the centuries.

"My will creates your body, and your sword my destiny..."

It was a voice she couldn't ignore somehow. Mordred rose up and focused her mana while still in the spiritual realm. Her armor formed around her in a flash of red lightning, her helmet included, which concealed her identity and gender flawlessly thanks to the Secret of Pedigree spell.

"-Spring forth now, guardian of the scales!"

It was the end of the incantation. Mordred grinned beneath her helmet as she felt a surge of mana rush through her. Something about this summons had her blood already surging. She was excited!

Darkness had a way of attracting darkness, after all.

In a bright flash of red light, Mordred appeared in the human world. As the light dissipated, she was revealed, a vision capable of striking pure terror in an enemy with her horned helmet and gleaming silver and red armor. As a true knight and Servant, she had appeared on one knee. But after the briefest of moments she rose up, standing tall, but did not remove her helmet as of yet.

She was curious to observe her new Master, after all. For there was more than one person there, she sensed, and one reaked with a scent similar to that of her own mother.

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The figures before the summoned knight were those of a very tall, blond-haired muscular man dressed in utterly outlandish attire and a diminutive old crone clutches a wooden staff as tall as her with two right hands. Both of them looked quite sinister. No wonder the pull had been so strong. For who but villains of the most vicious sort would call upon the wicked traitor who had brought Camelot's downfall?

"You see, My Lord?!" crows the old woman in more than slightly mad triumph. "You see?! The sin borne of King Arthur is yours as I told it would be! And with him as your weapon, you shall gain everything through the Grail!!!"

"Yes indeed, Enya..." comes the smooth, deep and cultured voice of the man. He radiated a presence like no other man. More like that of some great monster that the Knights of the Round Table slayed after great struggle as part of their duties. Yet there was nothing monstrous about his appearance. He is handsome, unearthly so. The sensation he generates is one that is both ominous and enticing.

"Yes indeed..." He stroll over to the completely armored Heroic Spirit with a calm, confident swagger. "Sir Mordred of Britain, I presume? I am DIO, your Master and we are going to become the closest of companions. For you see, I killed my father too."

Mordred would not have objected to the presence of the crone, had she kept her mouth shut. She clenched her teeth behind her helmet and radiated pure fury. Worse yet, the old woman reeked of a witch's scent, and had the audacity to declare what Mordred was or was not. Mordred would not have it, particularly not when the old woman wasn't even her Master.

Mordred planted the tip of her sword, Clarent, into the earth and stared intently at the old woman, despite still having her helmet on.

"A sin, am I? The true sin lies not within me, witch, but within the weakness of my father," she snapped, her voice slightly masked by the helmet.

Keeping her stance tall and proud, Mordred focused her energy and her helmet broke apart methodically, moving almost mechanically as it moved away to reveal her face and the pieces secured against her suit of armor. Her blonde ponytail cascaded down against her back, and her bright green eyes flashed as she looked to her Master.

"Make no mistake, I do not condone patricide for the sheer sake of murder. If it was necessary, then that is another matter altogether."

A slow smirk played across her lips as she regarded the man. He radiated mana and power, and that was definitely something she could respect.

"Now then, you say that you are the one who is to be my Master?" She could have done worse - He was indeed handsome, she had to admit.

Edited 2018-06-30 01:04 (UTC)

Enya merely grins nasty at the knight and does not flinch as the blade strikes the ground. Being called a witch was nothing new to her, nor did she fear any ghost given flesh with her Stand. But she is but the audience here. She will say nothing more. It is not her place to start a fight.

Meanwhile, the author of this drama in process gazes at Mordred with the penetrating golden eyes of a hawk. "It was. He drove my mother to an early grave. It had to be avenged." That is all he will say on the matter for now. It is clear he wants to see the visage behind the helmet. He gets his wish quickly enough. And when he sees her face...

There is slight twitch of his jaw in surprise and then the lips pull back into the smile that of a wolf's, complete with sharp fangs.

"That I most happily am. You may call me, DIO. And I must say you are even more handsome then I dared hope."

He thinks her a very effeminate looking boy at the moment. But that suits him just fine. He likes those. Not that the truth of the matter wouldn't be equally welcomed when it comes very soon. Attractive people are attractive people, regardless of gender. Already a predatory gleam is shining out for those golden eyes at her.

The mere sight of the crone and her wicked grin was enough to make Mordred's short temper flare. It was a rare instance of restraint on her part that Clarent was only buried into the ground and not into the old bat's face. Time would tell if that restraint continued. A Command Seal may be required for that, but Mordred was not about to let her first kill in this War be anything other than a worthy, capable fighter.

The fangs were something of a surprise, but when she focused Mordred could tell this man, her new Master, didn't smell completely human. He didn't smell like the crone or her mother, but it was different. There was a slight musk to his scent that drew her in, but Mordred managed to keep her posture straight and tall.

Treacherous or not, she was still a knight.

"Very well then," she replied to Dio's explanation of his father's death. "That is acceptable." While he had not held her mother in particularly high regard, Mordred could understand Dio's motivation. "I can accept such an explanation as that."

She was almost jealous. Mordred would have loved to have had a moderately decent relationship with either one of her parents. Betrayed and abandoned by her father; manipulated and mistreated by her mother.

Sensing no enemy Servants nearby, Mordred focused her mana again, and her armor glowed red for a moment. Then slowly it disappeared from around her, revealing her slender figure and modest bosom. All the same, there was no denying her gender now with her armor removed and her clothing on the skimpy side. Her chest was barely covered, the curve of her breasts revealed both above and below the strip of red fabric. Mordred had long legs intricately laced with muscle, making her fast and powerful. She kept Clarent planted firmly before her.

"I appreciate the flattery, but it's unnecessary," she replied, blushing just a little from the way he gazed at her.

Oh... Once again, mild surprise registers on Dio's face as the white and red armor dissolves to revel attire that leaves little to imagination. Oh yes, this just keeps getting better and better. Such a perfect body to complement that cute face. Lithe yet toned. Tomboyish yet feminine.

He was going to make love to him or her in time anyway once he had confirmed they were attractive enough for his taste. But now, he wants to feel that athletic body grinding against his in his bed this very night.

His smile changes into one of gentlemanly mildness. "It is not unnecessary to pay respect to such a lovely young maiden as yourself. But tell me, why are you, a man in the old legends? It seems like such a mistake would be obvious to avoid really."

Lovely young maiden.

Most would have been flattered. Mordred's eyes narrowed and almost glowed red as she swung her sword up and stopped just before the blade touched his neck. There was pure fury in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"The next time you refer to me as a woman, I will use your throat as a sheathe," she growled. "Do you understand?"

It was a shame enough, being unrecognized by Arthur as his only legitimate successor, and being female just added insult to injury.

Raising a blade to a Master was not typical practice for a Servant. It took true recklessness and fury for that - honestly she could have been summoned as a Berserker. But no, that was just Mordred. Reckless, charging headlong into battle with little regard for consequence.

That is what made her one of the most feared Knights of the Round Table.

What the- Instantly, the pleasantness vanished for Dio's face replaced by sheer astonishment that Mordred would attack his personage which is the very anchor that keeps her on this plane and then it settles into cold fury that would wither the resolve of any who weren't a true hero. Enya meanwhile had already ran out of the room, out to get her son, Vanilla Ice and quite few zombies in case they were need to contain the Servant.

Something invisible suddenly knocks the sword out of the foolhardy knight's hands. It is no magecraft.

"And next time you dare threaten me, I will beat you until you scream for mercy." His voice is low now and heavy with ill intent like the breath of a dragon before it blenches forth flames. There are thunderstorms in his eyes "Just because I didn't like what my father did to me and my mother doesn't mean I haven't learned from it..."

He grips her by both shoulders with a hold like a vice.

"I am here to offer you glory and true companionship and you would ruin that over what? The fact that you are in denial that you aren't a man? You are a child who will only suffer abject failure once more if you continue to behave like this."

Edited 2018-07-03 02:26 (UTC)

Ah, now there's the break in the facade. So for all that dignified aura, this Master was still a man. That cold fury would indeed send any other Servant to tremble and beg forgiveness - but Mordred was a knight of the Round Table, the son of King Arthur. She did not show her fear, despite the fact that his look did indeed terrify her.

She was unprepared to have her blade knocked away, and thus was caught off guard. Mordred cried out sharply in surprise. Clearly this Master had more tricks up his sleeve.

Her emerald gaze meets his again as he speaks and takes her shoulders. She swallowed hard but kept her gaze transfixed upon him.

"Very well, you may try. But I promise you, 'mercy' is not something I beg for," she would sooner have death. She would sooner return to the Throne of Heroes.

Perhaps this Master was not the worthy Master she had anticipated upon answering his summons. But she did not intend to abandon their pact, it was still early in the war, after all.

"...there is no way a woman would have inherited King Arthur's throne," she growled. "Had I been brought up as some pretty maid, I would not have become a knight of the Round Table. For all of this, I had to be a man. I will not endure the shame of being a woman. I am a knight first and foremost. I am your Saber, do not think I raise my sword lightly to my Master."

Bad enough Arthur had denied her without knowing she was a woman. She did not want to be faced with the notion that she, being a woman, was unworthy in yet another way of being his successor.

"...I am the Treacherous Knight, but I am no traitor." That title probably hurt her more than any other.

He had certainly picked out a strong-willed and tenacious one as his Servant which may be as much of curse as a befit here. Her explanation at least explaining most of it. Self-loathing at her sex as well on top of the illegitimacy of her birth. Her desire to overcome what where near impossible barriers to advancement in her day and age is actually quite admirable and reminds of his own youthful quest to escape a life doomed to the gutter.

Pity, that she was so defiant of him at moment that it almost cancels out such sentiments. Still catch more files with honey than with vinegar... What would be gained making her dead again after all the trouble it took to summon her up?

So, the vampire will do an unexpected thing. His grip on her shoulders with be released and he will slide his mighty arms further down her well-toned body until they warp around together behind her back and Dio pulls Mordred in an embrace against his chest that is almost tender.

"Forgive me then... I didn't not understand. It doesn't matter what sex you are. As long as you were pleasing, I, DIO would desired you anyway be you male or female. And you most certainly are indeed. Win the Holy Grail for me... More that, please love me."

His voice sounding slightly hurt and sorrowful is hypnotizing in it's gentleness...

Mordred could sense he was still angry. She could sympathize with that - she would not be so forgiving if someone out a sword to her throat either. When he released her shoulders, Mordred braced herself, her breath catching in her chest, expecting him to lash out at her with whatever force had struck out against her.

But then...he embraced her.

She was very stiff at first. How long had it been since someone had held her? Never her father...perhaps her mother? But she would have had to have been very young for that. Her mother was not the coddling type. Mordred relaxed after a moment. Her master's embrace was....nice. The strength in his arms was warm and comforting. It drew her in, as did his voice.

"...yes, Master," she whispered softly. "The Grail will be ours. I promise. It was made for no one but us. As the strongest Servant, it should naturally be won by me."

Mordred had her wish. She would be king and test her skills to try and draw the Sword of Selection.

She smiled crookedly, a true sign of happiness for her. "I promise Master, I am yours, your Saber. I will win the Grail for you."

"That's much better...." His mood starts to lighten instantly at her promise and her cute grin that she probably assumed made her look tough.

She wanted so badly to look tough.... That demeanor draws desires out of him. Some not very nice indeed. He will make her come to be at peace with her gender in his own. It will be fun for him and for her... eventually.

He releases Mordred from his embrace and gives his own straight but sinister grin at her "The War starts officially a month from now... We shall make a surprise attack then next week. I know exactly needs to be taken off the broad right away. Until I'd like to test you out in all manners of ways while getting to know you better, my darling knight."

His golden eyes pan desirously over her toned body once again. "Perhaps you care to test your psychical strength against DIO's?"

Mordred did pout a little when he told her the War was so far off. A month? A whole month? She was expected to just sit around and wait all that time? She'd go mad for certain! But aside from a soft growl of annoyance, she made no protest to his plan.

Besides...he had suggested one of her favorite pastimes.

Mordred tilted a brow and smirked at the notion of sparring with her Master. "You feel like crossing swords with a Knight of the Round Table? Quite the reckless Master, aren't you?"

She moved back and stepped to where her sword had been knocked away. Ah, that's right - some unseen force had knocked Clarent out of her hands when she'd raised the blade to Dio. What could that have been? Magic? No...there had been no incantation or gem or mystical item.

Mordred was curious to find out.

She raised the large blade and swung it easily up to rest across the back of her shoulders behind her head. "I accept your challenge, Master. Just don't get mad when I land a nice solid shot to your face."

Mordred had speed and strength to easily rival a Berserker. Unlike the other knights, there was little artistry in her fighting style. She fought to win, whatever that took. So, in that very same fashion, rather than wait for Dio to agree, Mordred focused mana in her feet and burst forward at an incredible speed, closing one hand into a fist and moving to swing a solid right hook jab to Dio's jaw.

Oh, she is an eager and reckless little thing to just lunge at him, fist raised and without him even finishing the conversation by laying down the terms of what victory and defeat entailed for the rebel knight.

Not that he isn't ready for it.

"The World."

The golden armored humanoid raises up out of thin air as a barrier for it's user and to catch the punch with it's own huge hand with all the skill of a seasoned baseball catcher grabbing a hold of a fast ball. This time, Mordred should be able to see and feel him. The contract between them is complete after all.

Still, she is much strong than that little body ever suggested even for how athletic in as it appeared. The stone floor under both Dio and his Stand had crack deeply from just the mere impact of their feet sinking into it while catching the blow.

Dio can't help but smile. The more Morderd surprised him then more itch grew to bed this cute and brash tomboy.

"This is my Guardian Spirit, The World. He is a part of me and what was the instrument that knock away your sword from before. Think of him as my Noble Phantasm in a way."

The World, face bearing the same smirk as it's wielder, tosses her rather gentley to the ground.

"You also didn't let me set the conditions of the battle. What will happen if you do mange to beat the World or if if you lose...."

Mordred was never one for patience. Leave that to the Casters and Assassins of the world.

Her eyes widened in shock when the golden spirit suddenly appeared. Mordred gasped sharply when the newcomer so easily caught her fist. She was so caught off guard by the spirit that she didn't notice the ground crack beneath her Master.

Mordred wrenched her fist free from The World's grip as he tossed her and she jumped back about a foot to put some space between them. She needed to get the measure of this newcomer. Mordred tilted a brow, evaluating the spirit's broad chest and armor of shining gold. Something about screamed 'knight' but clearly he wasn't. So this was what had knocked Clarent away before.

"Huh...if you have this guy here then what the hell do ya' need me for?" Mordred huffed, somehow finding herself a little jealous sharing her Master with another guardian spirit.

She crossed her arms before her chest and blew a breath of air out to move a stray strand of her blonde hair from her face.

"All right, all right...battle conditions, go for it. What happens when I win and beat this golden jester into the ground?" She wasn't even entertaining the possibility of losing.

They will just have to work on that impulsiveness of hers then. Courage and fearlessly charging in is all well and good for a warrior but it must be balanced by the moderation of getting something a good measure of your opponent first. You must know if you can beat them before doing so. Dio himself learned that lesson the hard way with Jonathan several times over.

"Oh, there is no need to feel jealous. The World as he is named after the Tarot Card, is but an extension of myself. My Noble Phantasm if you will." The golden humanoid will just stare out emotionlessly at Morderd, still as a ghostly statue.

He can't help but smile with genuine mirth at her confidence. It is just darling. She really is but a naive little girl at heart.

"If you win, my Knight, then DIO will treat you as the Master here in this relationship of ours. And if you lose... You will allow yourself to be bedded like a maiden by me without complaint. Is that fair? You see, even if you are man at heart I still desire ever so much to be inside of you. Gender means nothing to DIO, just fulfillment of love."

Time for the reaction. Hope she doesn't go for her sword again.

Edited 2018-11-29 17:15 (UTC)

Mordred scoffed when he so astutely observed her envy. Of course she would never admit to it. She was the great Knight of Rebellion. The Traitorous Knight. She didn't feel such fleeting and mortal emotions as jealousy. Mordred rested her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side, evaluating the silent knight-like figure in golden armor. He had hardly seemed to have moved at all. Yet this was the figure that had seized Clarent clear from her hands and sent it flying?

Not many could lay claim to the boast that they had disarmed the Knight of Rebellion.

Mordred smirked. She wouldn't let that happen again. This 'The World' didn't seem so tough! Muscular, sure - but she had her mana burst and crimson lightning. She would make short work of him soon enough, she was sure of that.

But Dio's proposal made her gasp softly in surprise, and her face turned as red as her armor. For a moment she just stared, then she sighed and shook her head as a mother when she is faced with her hopeless child.

"Such an obsession with the flesh you have, Master," Mordred sighed again. "Fine, fine. If those are the stakes you want then so be it."

Not like she intended to lose, anyway.

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[For Dio] Blood-Born Grudge Curses

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