[open] i'm taking back my life tonight

[bloodings]

WHO? Mordred/bloodings & unlucky people (you)
WHAT? Dreamin'
WHEN? During the event, 'til the 23rd
ANYTHING ELSE? contains f/apoc spoilers, violence. prose or backets is cool, i'll match you!

[ Servants don't dream, but things are different here. It brings her back to when she was alive, never human, but not a spirit; when she could still dream.

Loathsome dreams, dreams that made her wake roaring in anger long after her decision to kill the king was made. Bitter dreams, of toppling her father and taking his crown for herself. Worst of all — dreams of what she wanted from the start. Dreams of her father's hand in her hair and words of praise as his son. (But she's not. She's a filthy, unwanted child, born from his enemy, and he will never recognize her because of it.)

Dreams... ]

a.

[ ... of her training. Of bitterness, seeing children her own age and knowing she would be dead before they even reached adulthood. If she is to die sooner, then she will blaze brighter, and become greater than they will ever be. She will defeat the king and claim the throne. (At least, her mother says she will. In truth, she wants nothing more than to serve him.)

She's still a child, though. So anyone in the dream will be very suddenly pushed over (even an adult; she's freakishly strong) and greeted by a very young face staring back at them, smirking. ]

Heh.

b.

[ ... of Camelot. Of a woman, a man, with the same face as hers, sitting at the round table. The same man the knights call King Arthur. Mordred's own face hidden behind a helmet. It's the day she confronted the king, the day her love turned to hate, the day she was reborn.

Maybe you're there to see her plead with him. It's not a long discussion. Mordred, her face exposed, desperate for acknowledgement as a son, if not as heir; for him to take pride in her. "Even if it cannot be publicly known, you can accept me. As a father, if not as king!". And the king's simple response — "Born from the machinations of my sister you may be, but indeed you are of my blood. Yet I shall not recognize you as my son, nor shall I allow you the throne." — before he turns his back on her.

Either way, when she returns to her chambers her emotions are almost radiating off her. The door opens, and she glances up, still wearing her helmet... but her glare can be felt. ]

What the hell do you want? [ She knows it's a dream, this time. The worst moment of her life, and it's exposed for all to see. ]

c.

[ ... of Camlann. Of waking on the hill after her father's spear pierced her chest, alone, with tens of thousands of dead bodies around her. It's a nightmare, not a memory; she's a literal walking corpse with a lance straight through her body and blood oozing from it with every step.

On a hill of death, it's easy to spot the only other living, moving thing. She blinks in surprise at the figure in front of her. ]

How? [ How are you here, how is she alive... how did it all end this way. One hand rests on the spear in her chest, seemingly unable to pull it out. ]

Comments

[bloodings]

Close enough.

[ Very encouraging. But she's still grinning, so she's obviously happy about it. ]

You probably won't ever need it, anyway. But at least now you won't hurt yourself.

[trample]

I wasn't going to hurt myself. [ He tries to frown but ends up having this mixed look which just makes him look constipated. ] What about you? I'm sure being a knight and all gets you knocked around plenty.

If you're throwing yourself into a life like that, can't that be considered hurting yourself?

[bloodings]

That's fine. Any wounds I bear, the king won't have to. I'm going to become his sword.

[ She'll be the best. Her mother's schemes have failed; her blade will bring down those who oppose him, and help protect his kingdom.

She picks up the knife from the ground, turns it over in her hands again. ]

It's a knight's duty to protect people. The kingdom should be safe for everyone.

[trample]

Well, aren't you noble. [ He says it in a completely inoffensive way, displaying neither excessive praise nor sarcasm. ] But you'd be better off serving as a shield, rather than a blade, if you wanted to protect someone.

[ The sword in his hand is turned so that he can face his own reflection in its brightly polished sheen. ]

This is a tool that saves lives. [ He can hardly make anything out from the blur, and so his expression hardens. ] And it does so by taking them.

[ His thumb makes its way up past the guard and onto the blade itself, where it presses against the edge as it runs along. There is no blood. When Eren turns his head back up to look at her, his tone is heavy and measured like it would be in life. ]

Shouldn't you be waking up right about now?

[bloodings]

Huh? I'm not— [ —sleeping, but she is. She blinks, and shudder seems to pass through everything around them; before, all at once, it goes dark. ] Hold on a second—!

[ There's no way to stop it. A second later, she wakes up somewhere in a corridor, scowling and rubbing at her head. What a weird, ridiculous dream.

Fortunately for Eren, she's way too stupid to realize the kid was him. Otherwise, she'd probably punch him for everything that just happened, even though it wasn't his fault. ]