when the berserker has a shield ( fate au );

[dadiolus]

( he'd decided from the very moment of the initial summoning that he did not care very much for his new master; it hadn't taken him very long at all to learn that the family his master belonged to was a vicious one, caring only for things like personal gain regardless of what it took to get it and the man he had been before, the man his legend is now based upon is not one that would stand for being chained to servitude to such a self-serving name.

we amicitia are the king's sworn shields.

he is sworn to his master, that much has been made abundantly clear by the command seals on the back of a pristine hand, though he finds himself unwilling to look at the face attached to it, the coldness in it, the malice on top of everything else and he does not count himself a weakened spirit for having to answer to such a farce but it does make him think that there is someone more worthy of his attention, of his devotion —

guard the king with our lives— that's the way it's always been.

and still, he goes through the motions and remains loyal, not only because he has no real choice in the matter but because he's taken to watching another form in the house, a small, quiet one that never asks for anything and in turn only bears the brunt of a future wrong from the sort of shadow she was never meant for and that … that alone gives him the sort of draw to her that he shouldn't have, because she is not his master. and yet still he softens whenever she's around.

i've embraced my duty, and i take pride in it.

one particularly brutal battle with another servant and master leaves him a little worse for the wear, and while he insists that he doesn't need tending to, they send her to him; still small, pale and dark all at once and beautiful, whether she's ever been told as much or not, and he's never been able to speak to her before now, though the thought alone makes some hollow presence in him feel a little less in hers.

she seeks to tend to his wounds, and while he does not shy away from her touch, he insists: ) You don't have to do this. ( pause. ) Not … 'cause I don't want you to. But because it's not your responsibility.

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[eighthandled]

[ 'Maybe you'll become something worthwhile. Otherwise, stay quiet and pretty, and you might not be completely miserable.' That's what that bastard of a father had told her, before she was whisked away in a black car and dropped off at the large estate known as the Zenin. Megumi knew even at the age of 7 that she was sold off, but it wasn't something she protested too deeply. The price was high after all (as one should expect of an essential slave), and it would support Tsumiki and that bastard man if he can keep himself from gambling it away. The price, of course, was an investment on the Zenin's part for her potential - the chance of the girl inheriting one of the prized techniques and developing enough cursed energy to succeed as a mage and master. Unheard of for a woman given the general status of women within the Zenin, but possible with a strong enough technique. If not any of that, then it was at least hoped that that potential would exist in any of the children she was expected to carry.

Disappointing everyone, Megumi's now way past the usual age for a cursed technique to develop, and what she has is only a mediocre level of cursed energy. That's how her role within the family was defined. A handmaiden to the mages and clan leaders, sitting at the very bottom of the hierarchy until her time to marry. Megumi knows how the world works and her place in it. Though she hates the circumstances with every fiber of her being, resentment building beneath her delicate but cold features, there really isn't anything she can do. She wouldn't survive being thrown into the pit after all. She can only endure, play the role, and hope for something better.

Caught in the middle of a war (which the Zenin had brought upon themselves, really), the entire focus of the house has been on master and summoned servant. The head of the house was hardly a pleasant man, and no kinder a master. Anyone could see there was no real bond between the pair, with the callous man often relegating the brunt of the fights to his servant, then leaving Gladiolus to tend to his wounds with the help of some of the maids. There were no warm words between them, no sense of real attachment beyond the obligation thrust on the legendary man by the command seals, but there was no one in the house brave enough to point that out.

Megumi trots into the room quietly as their clean leader leaves, an element of poise to her kimono-clan form. She knows how to act like a good woman, even if she used to be the type to fight the mean boys on the playground. It's all survival, really. The older maids had relayed a simple order from their leader: Tend to Gladiolus' wounds, and offer him some mana as needed. It did make sense. Servants healed better through that exchange of supernatural energy. Of course, the acts involved veered toward the intimate, and she's never done any of that in the past.

Still, from the gazes they would exchange in silence, she could tell that his eyes were warm. He was kind, very much like Tsumiki. The type of person she admires. That's why she feels at ease stepping into the room and sharing the space alone with him. ]

How would you know what my responsibilities are? [ That's also why she feels able to respond in that biting tone, her personality shining through. It doesn't feel like he's going to hit her and order her to be killed. ]

You're bleeding everywhere. Worry about yourself first. Servants aren't immortal.

[ Just more durable than average, really. Megumi gives him a gentle push with her thin fingers, urging him to sit on the bed so she can tend to the large wound on his chest. ]

[dadiolus]

( of course he doesn't know the whole of the family history, only anything immediately useful to him with regard to his responsibility as a servant; it is his title for a reason, he is expected to serve and obey and he has yet to outright defy his master, but there is so much room for arguments in future, especially … if the treatment of megumi continues as he's seen from the moment he'd been summoned.

( it is not his place to care about anything outside his place in the grail war, that much he knows, but in life he had not been such a cold, uncaring sort. he might have had a penchant for tough love, but when he does love, he love fiercely and completely, and he would give up anything in his possession to see that those he cares about are cared for.

that is … one of the reasons he's already taken to her. one of the reasons there is always kindness and warmth in his eyes when they meet hers across a room, when his master takes his leave and effectively washes his hands of whatever mess he's leaving behind, whether it's a pile of bodies or simply the wounds of a servant that need tending. he doesn't ask for anything … but if he did, it would be that she stay with him for as long as she was able, just so he could keep his eyes on her, and she would have a reprieve from whatever else this family takes from her. )

he understands the requirements for the transferral of mana should he need it, and he will admit ( only to himself ) that after this last altercation he's effectively running on fumes — but he is not about to bring such a thing up, not when she's all geared up to clean him up and sass him while she's doing it, and that spark … that hint of defiance and stubbornness on top of everything else reminds him so much of someone from his past, someone he had dedicated his life and his shield to, someone he would have done anything for if it meant —

… no. he isn't about to dredge up those memories now, not when she's shuffling into the room and he automatically relaxes in her presence. he huffs out a laugh, because that's the sort of thing that he finds easy around her, and his posture almost slumps into something easy, open, almost vulnerable if you knew how easy it would be for him to resume a defensive stance. and fuck your shit up beyond belief.

she pushes, and he drops down to sit on the bed, sighing out a low sound that offers itself as something long-suffering, but really … it's nothing but fond. )

It was never my job to worry about myself first. ( one of his biggest truths, and telling of the kind of man he'd been in life. ) Old habits, they say they die hard. I'm livin' proof of that. Or— ( he chuckles a bit sheepishly, because you haven't been around long enough to realize the sort of awful jokes he's capable of. ) Maybe not living, but you get the point.

lets pretend its a futon not a bed

[eighthandled]

[ That sounds like the ways of a foolish man, Or at least, that's the first thought that comes to Megumi's mind (and she might be a hypocrite in that, because she isn't too different). The sense she's had from him from the beginning is that he's good. She's seen the way he protests involving innocent civilians in the grail wars, and how much Gladiolus preferred to fight with honour than to use hostages or underhanded means. She's taken notice of the way he would stand up for the other servant girls when they would be berated or bullied. The man was kind, and the last thing she would ever want is for a kind man to die.

-- Even if most Servants are slated to die. Winning the war was really the only way to keep their place in the world.

At the very least, she would like him to have just a bit more time. So bleeding out in the room or succumbing to a lack of mana? She may not be part of the war, but she doesn't want that to happen. ]

Then you're being stupid. If you die so soon, you might as well not have been resurrected at all. [ Biting words but they come from a place of concern. Megumi shifts closer with the first aid kit, kneeling properly in front of him and reaching out to tug at the edge of his tattered shirt. ]

Take it off.

works for me and honestly makes more sense if i think about it

[dadiolus]

( no one ever accused him of not being foolish about some things, but those are the sort of thoughts that he's going to keep to himself for the time being, or until such a time that he feels it prudent to open up to her more than he already has. there are no rules against that level of closeness between a servant and someone that isn't their master, but you generally don't hear about it, either. rare cases, at best, but he's not about to shun her just because she isn't his master.

we've already established that he likes her more than the one that is, but that's neither here nor there for now. to find out that they aren't so different from one another in the future won't be such a surprise, not really, but that sort of reveal is better left for the most opportune moment possible.

he remembers … being fussed over before, in a way not unlike this one but certainly not just like it, either, and it brings back a flood of memories that make him immediately nostalgic. for the past he'll never see again but always carry with him and for the people that remained in that past … all of them he'd held so close, so dear, and some of which he sees in the girl in front of him, fussing in her own way, mincing no words about how she feels he's acting.

foolish, it seems. but that just endears her to him even more than she already was. )

Not the first time I've been called stupid. ( he muses, fondness in his voice as he finally settles and begins to peel his shirt away from the surface of his skin. there might not be as much damage as she thinks there is, but then again there might be, and the only real way to tell is to let her have her way and inspect him.

his shoulders roll as he pulls the fabric up and over his head, and if she's never seen more of his tattoo than what peeks beneath any shirtsleeves before now, that's definitely about to change.

he smirks down at her, one corner of his mouth pulled slightly upward. ) That better?

[eighthandled]

[ Megumi has never been one to take notice of the appearances of others, valuing their character beyond anything else, but even she can recognise that he was an appealing man - a kindness in his eyes, and a rugged appeal to his body. Large, imposing, but not frightening. With the shirt whipped off she's stealing a glance before she even realises it, and then she's hastily looking away, still trying to maintain that aura of quiet poise despite that short flicker of fluster. He looks so strong. No wonder their master had sough to summon him as his champion. The lack of concern for this Servant, beyond the results he provided, would be confusing to Megumi if she was not already aware of what sort of environment the Zenin clan was. In her hands, she would be tending to him after each battle they fought together, immensely grateful for the support in furthering her goals. Of course, she was only a lowly servant girl in this house, so it was folly to imagine such things.

Her only job is to tend to and rejuvenate the leader's Servant in any means possible so he'll be ready for the next battle. It doesn't sit right with her that this man is being used as a mere tool, especially given that she was traded into the family like a commodity as well, but she doesn't quite have the power to change that. All she can do is make their time easier somehow. ]

Yes. Lie down. [ Now, if only her compassion toward him could be reflected in her actual demeanor. Instead, he gets a stern, quiet voice, ordering him to lie back.

Once he does, she gets to work, reaching into the first aid kit for the wound cleaning solution and dabbing it over his wounds with gauze. This is just to stop the bleeding, of course. Servants heal up with mana. That's going to come up in due time. She just has to finish up the dressings, and build up the courage and nerve. ]

Did you get hurt trying to protect him?

[dadiolus]

( he doesn't know the specific reason behind his master summoning him specifically — the class he'd emerged as, for starters, being such a variable that it certainly had to play a part in things — but he has been useful so far, and a servant summoned into the holy grail war is never guaranteed a kind master.

but there is something to be said of the zenin clan, their intentions, and while he remains loyal to his master that doesn't mean he has to care for him or how he goes about things, and make no mistake about that, he does not.

but megumi. megumi has only ever been kind to him, so soft and quiet and demure that he's almost afraid she might fracture just from him looking at her, but he does still, because she's sweet in her own way. she looks after him when his master doesn't bother to, even though it shouldn't be her problem.

she cares.

and that makes something in the very center of his chest ache, just a little, for the things he no longer has. the brothers, the king he would have died for. their lives were always so much more important than his own, because he was the shield, he was meant to protect them, and they ran and they fought alongside him until the very goddamned end.

how you holdin' up, big guy?

i think it might be time we stopped for a rest.

yeah … i'm beat.

it comes in flashes, bursts, things he remembers but doesn't and maybe it'll catch up with him eventually. but. he needs to focus on the here and now, on her and how she's fussing over him as she demands he lie back, and he does, and she gets to work patching up the surface wounds.

the rest of it …he's never been so drained before now. the mana is sure to come up sooner rather than later.

she asks him that, and he grunts out a noise under his breath, something noncommittal. like it doesn't matter to him. ) Yeah. ( and he shrugs. ) Ain't that what's expected of me, though?