Another Chapter re-posting from Archive of Our Own. Enjoy!

Mordred stared intently at the door, a hand hovering over the surface as she stood in thought. Damn, what she wouldn't give to have Bedivere right now. Father's first knight had a reputation for helping out the knights who had suffered form their first battle, as had Tristan, whenever he wasn't making a sappy ballad or something. Ruler had wanted to talk to Jacob, or at least to go before her, but Mordred had refused to budge. Thankfully, Ruler had realized that, and Jeanne had agreed to letting Mordred handle this.

Now, she was starting to wonder if she should have tried to ask for any advice first. Now that she thinks about it, too, aside from anything combat related, the best people to approach for advice among the deployment members were Marie and Jeanne. Mordred shivered slightly at the idea of asking the exuberant Rider for help. But that wasn't the point of why she was regretting going in without asking for advice.

There weren't many people, alive or dead, who could describe Mordred, the Knight of Rebellion and the bastard child of Arthur Pendragon, as a 'people person'.

Hell, she didn't exactly hold high opinions about humanity. She recalled a conversation with Rider of Black, and that odd homunculus fellow, (Sieg, if she recalled). About how they'll uphold grudges while forgetting debts of honor, and that the only thing that puts them above other animals was the ability to speak.

Mordred still stood by that, though she would (grudgingly) admit that only a handful of humans had managed to earn her respect and care. . For a time, her father. Then it was her former Master, Kairi Shishigou. To a certain degree, Mash and Ritsuka, and of course, her current Master. Her duty as a Servant was to, among other things, protect the one she was contracted to, and she would follow that duty to the letter, damn it!

"Hope this doesn't become a repeating occurrence," she grumbles, before finally plunging forward. She rapped the back of her hand against the door, and a familiar 'come in' was all that she needed to hear before she opened the door and marched into her Master's temporary quarters, seeing that they were just as luxurious as her own, and definitely much more befitting of a knight than a crypt. Her green eyes quickly zeroed in on her Master, and she frowned, crossing her arms as she took in his appearance.

He looked a bit haggard, his rather shaggy brown hair ruffled up, no doubt from a nervous habit of running his hand through his hair, and this almost-always present hat was resting not on his scalp, but on the desk. His eyes, usually gleaming with determination and warmth, were dull, and if she was honest, a bit unnerving, considering how she couldn't recall him looking like that before. He sat with his body slumped slightly.

"Alright, Master, ready to talk?" Mordred asked. She could imagine her former comrades-in-arms facepalming loudly, but when the hell has she ever do anything subtle?

Her Master looked at her with a weary smile that made him look three times as old as he was. "So, is this how it feels to be you in these situations?" He said in a half-hearted attempt at humor. Neither of them laughed. "Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Truth be told, I had expected for Jeanne to beat you to this." His words caused her to snort in mild amusement.

"Well, you're not wrong there. And don't think that doesn't mean you're going to be avoiding this, buster," Mordred growled with narrowed eyes. "We both know what's been bothering you, so let's skip the whole beating around the bushes." Another bark of dry laughter.

"Straight to the point as always, I see," Mordred's Master said, a ghost of a smile breaking through his grim expression. "Yes. It's about that soldier earlier. The one I had to…to kill," he said, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to utter those last two words.

"What about it exactly that is bothering you?" Mordred said bluntly, unwilling to give her Master a chance to slink off into a bout of mental pity.

"Maybe because of how easy it is?" He asked aloud, though more for his own benefit. Mordred couldn't disagree that, at least against normal foes, killing was disturbingly easy, at least in terms of doing so. Coping with it was another matter entirely, and not one she had much experience with, considering her mother's so-called 'training' that she had been dragged through. "No, I think it is just the situation that I have found myself in," her Master finally said. Mordred cocked her head slightly to look at him.

"What do you mean by that, Master?" She asked. He shrugged as shrugged, a bitter expression on his face.

"Now, in order to save humanity, we must kill humans. Such cruel irony," her Master said sardonically. He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting the elbow on the corner of the desk as he shook his head. She was reminded of Agravain after receiving bad or poor news. "I was told that a human soul is priceless, and yet in this case there is a price that must be paid."

"To win means you have to survive," Mordred said, and to her at least, it was true. To win a battle, you had to survive. To win the Grail, you had to survive. And in order to survive, you had to do all that you can to survive. Or at least, almost anything. Even such a treacherous knight as herself had limits on what she was willing to do to win. "When it comes down to it, it was either you or him, Master."

He spun around in his chair, a pair of what only moments ago had been dull-looking eyes now blazing with fire, the faintest traces of a snarl beginning to form as he glared at her.

"You think I don't realize that it is necessary?" Her Master retorted with just a little bit of heat. She didn't take offense to that, not in this case. Again, while she had never directly taken part in these kind of things back in Camelot, that didn't mean that she hadn't a clue as to how they would typically go down.

First, there would be a sense of sadness and/or regret. Check. Then there was occasionally a bout of denial or self-justification, though that seems to have been mostly glossed over in this case. By this point, Mordred could safely say, and with no small amount of pride, that her Master was in some ways a veteran soldier…for a mage.

Then came anger, a sentiment she was all to familiar with, both as a receiver and a giver. After being given her seat at the Round Table, she had sworn that no more would she be subjected to another's anger, though in this case, she would make an exception. Especially if it meant that it would keep his head in the game. After all, there's only so much even someone like her could do to protect a Master who allowed himself to be distracted on the field of battle.

Before she could say anything, however, her Master released a long sigh, his brown eyes closed. When he opens them again, they are closer to his normal calm. "I apologize for my outburst, Mordred," he said, bowing his head slightly. Mordred nodded once. "Honestly, I feel a little silly, getting all worked up over this. I mean, you and I both know that this is far from the first time that I have killed something—"

"But like you said, this was the first time it was a living person. Not a wyvern, beast-man, or even a zombie, but someone with life in their veins," Mordred interrupted. She could see where this path was going to go, and she wanted to cut it off here and now. She stared sternly into his eyes, trying to mimic one of the more lecturing looks of her eldest half-brother that also had a silent statement of 'try and interrupt me, and see what happens'. God, how she hated every bloody time she had to be on the receiving end of one of those glares. What Agravain lacked in personality, he made up with his sternness.

"If you're worried about this somehow leading to you becoming a bad person, then you're being utterly dramatic. The fact that you've been hung over that man's death is more than enough proof that you regret it. It's fine to regret it, but don't let it control you."

Her Master remained silent after she finished speaking. "How did you deal with it? Killing someone for the first time?"

"Same way I do almost anything nowadays. I do whatever I want, when I want, and that's that, But I'll own up to my actions," she said a bit flippantly. "Maybe you should sleep on those words, and make of them what you will," she added, shrugging, her armor clinking slightly. Her Master nodded again, but said nothing, a thoughtful expression on his face.

After a minute or two had gone by in silence, Mordred grunted softly before speaking, seeing that her Master didn't seem inclined to do that himself, as well as running out of ideas. At the very least, she seemed to have done something, and not make things worse somehow.

"So, feeling a little better now, Master?" Mordred asked, crossing her arms. He didn't respond to her question, instead staring at her. She arched an eyebrow at his hesitation, wondering what's going on this time, when her Master finally broke the brief silence.

"Jacob."

"Huh?" Mordred asked, staring at him in mild confusion.

"Jacob. Can you call me Jacob, and not just Master, please?" Her Master

"Tch. Ah, alright Mas—Jacob," Mordred corrected herself as he gave her a dry look, which turned into a small grin as he nodded his head in approval.

"Thank you. For both that, and for listening. I know that out of the two of us, I might be considered as the one best suited for this, but in the end, it's the effort that counts." Jacob smiled at her, this time feeling more earnest than when she had entered the room.

"Well, try to make sure this doesn't become a reoccurring theme. I'm a fighter, damn it, not a therapist," she mocked-growled at him, while at the same time enjoying the rush of satisfaction at his acknowledgement. To her confusion, Jacob burst out laughing. "Okay, what the hell's so funny?"

"No-snrk-nothing much," her Master managed to say amidst his laughter. "You just reminded me of an old show my mom and I watched when I was a kid," he explained before falling back into his fit of laughter. Mordred rolled her eyes at the display.

"Well, I guess that answers my question about if you're feeling better," Mordred grunted, glad to be done with this. Finally reining in his mirth, Jacob nodded, looking far more like his normal self, whenever he wasn't in his whole leader mood on missions, that is.

"Yeah, I think so. At the very least, it should be enough to allow my conscious to be at peace," Jacob admitted, leaning back slightly. "You truly are a wonderful partner, Mordred," he added softly, smiling brightly at her.

For some reason, she felt her heartbeat increase, if only for a moment, and an odd urge to blush, as an alien sensation wormed its way through her body. The hell? She bit back both the urge and the additional, instinctive desire to scowl, instead maintaining her smirk. "And don't you forget that that fact," Mordred said proudly, once again forgoing the idea of modesty. She had a feeling that some of the other Servants in their party might be making comparisons between Nero and herself, but at least she kept her boasting in check.

Still, it was hard to shake off the uncanny similarities, at least in regards to facial features, of the haughty Roman and that of Father. One of the reasons she kept Secret of Pedigree in place over her head whenever she could do so if she had to be in the same room as the talkative brat, too.

"We should probably go to bed soon," Jacob said, his voice interrupting Mordred's train of thought. Looking at the window, she could see that it was indeed rather late at night. While she had very little need to sleep, especially seeing as how she was still in top shape and all, the same couldn't be said for either Jacob or Ritsuka.

"Yeah, probably a good idea. I'm not sure what it will be, but blondie definitely looked like she was cooking up a scheme or something after we finished dinner." Probably an offensive expedition or something along the lines of that, seeing as how she now had new allies, in Mordred's opinion. If that proved true, then who knows when either of the Masters would be able to get a full night's rest.

"Good point. Thanks again, Mordred. Sleep well, and see you in the morning," Jacob said, stretching his back before standing up, looking between her and the inviting bed that she stood next to.

"Good night, Jacob."

Mordred had barely closed the door before she felt a familiar presence, and she stifled a sigh as she turned around to face Jeanne d'Arc. She didn't even have the decency to look a little sheepish at having practically waited to badger her, damn it.

"Did it work?" Mordred sighed aloud this time, rolling her eyes at the concerned frown on Ruler's face.

"Wow, such faithlessness for a saint," Mordred snarked, earning her own frown as Ruler placed her hands on her hips, glaring at the unrepentant knight. "Relax, Ruler, Jacob's doing fine." Jeanne quirked an eyebrow at her fellow blonde.

"You called him Jacob," Jeanne said softly, and Mordred scowled, having the sinking feeling that Ruler was about to say something as her frown was replaced with a mischievous-looking grin.

"What do you want now?" Mordred growls at the smiling blonde.

"Oh, nothing. Or at least, nothing new." Gah, was she still trying to insist on there being something going on between Jacob and herself?! Mordred could feel her scowl slowly morphing into a smirk as an earlier name she had remembered resurfaced.

"Oh? Is that so? Then, if that's what you want to talk about, how about you go first? That homunculus kid, Sieg or something. I saw the way you looked at him," Mordred leered as Jeanne's face paled, her mouth hanging open slightly. Then the color rushes back into Ruler's cheeks, and then some, the fifteenth Servant of the Greater Holy Grail War looking a bit like a ripe tomato as she began stammering protests of denial. Mordred's smirk widened, feeling quite pleased with the results her words had achieved.

"Huh, I guess not. Well, it's getting late, and I wanna enjoy that comfortable bed the annoying pipsqueak has lent out to each of us," the Knight of Rebellion said with a lazy handwave, walking down the hallway as Jeanne continued to sputter out denials. As those started to fade away, Mordred's smirk began to fade, replaced with the frown from earlier.

Just what the hell was Ruler playing at?

Finally reaching the room she had been given by that loudmouth pipsqueak of a ruler (the non-Servant kind), she shrugged off the frustrations caused by the brief confrontation with Ruler. If the slightly-taller (and bustier) blonde ever dragged her Rider friend in on this, they can waste their time talking to Clarent!

It wasn't that she had an issue with the French Servant personally, mind you, but the past few days, she had been acting a little less like the strict, up-tight Ruler she had encountered in Trifas, and more like, well, a girl. Bah, at least she had yet to re-encounter that damn poison witch.

While she had mortally wounded Assassin of Red, Mordred still had a score that she intended to settle with the one who had briefly tortured her with poison, and more importantly, fatally injured her Master at the time. And she would do so, whether she also answered the Masters' calls or not.

Dismissing her armor in the privacy of her 'room', Mordred threw herself onto the large, soft feathery bed with a soft, satisfied moan. Honestly, as much as she enjoyed her time with Kairi, Mordred loathed his typical choice of sleeping quarters. Not this time, though. No dusty skeletons, candle lighting, or a simple roll of fabric to lay upon whilst waiting for nightfall.

While she had been lucky last time, there was a reason she kept as far away as she could from necromancers.

Mordred stared up at the gilded ceiling. It was a bit too opulent for her tastes, having lived a life staying in rooms that ranged from being described as 'spartan' at best (such as how she kept her bedchamber back in Camelot) to basically a jail cell. Still, a good bed was a good bed. Event hat, however, was not enough to quell the stormy sea of thoughts running through her mind.

It felt good to have another Master who would truthfully acknowledge her actions and whatnot. It really was. Honestly, aside from serving King Arthur before it all came crashing down, and her wish for if she had won the Grail, the only other things in life that she desired most above all else was to have a 'normal' life, and to be acknowledged for her merits and achievements.

Those two men had done so, even knowing that she was considered by many to be the epitome of deceit and treachery. Instead, they had given her something she had lack, but never realized quite how much she had desired it until now: acceptance.

Kairi had, in so many ways, become much like a second father to her, though she would kill the first person to find out about that, even if it was the necromancer himself! He acted more like a parent than either Morgan or Arthur, though she had realized that only at the bitter end. All she could hope for was that the scarred man had finally reunited with that daughter of his.

To be judged as an equal, despite her past actions? That was truly a gift. For that, both Kairi and now Jacob had earned her loyalty. A word that Gawain, Tristan, that womanizing snake known as Lancelot, and even the ever-polite Bedivere would have scowled at her using.

Had she not loyally served King Arthur, despite her mother's desire to slay him? Had she not crushed those who had tried to betray the king without a moment's hesitation? Had she not served without a desire for wealth or power in return for that very loyalty?

That had been loyalty, broken only by Father's rejection. A single sentence, and years of service had proven to be a false as the man everyone in Camelot thought bore her armor.

Loyalty, at least as she had come to understand it, ran both ways, and she would never again maintain loyalty to someone, anyone, who wouldn't do the same for her.

A fallen knight she may be considered by some, but she was still a knight regardless. And, as a knight, she would fight to protect Jacob, not just because he was her Master, and therefore her actual source of existence-sustaining mana, but because he was her friend, her partner, who looked out for one another.

They were friends and partners, nothing more, nothing less, despite whatever damn insinuations she was being bombarded by from Ruler.

Still, even with that thought in mind, as the Saber closed her eyes and sleep finally claimed her, she couldn't keep out of her mind the question of why she had felt her heart flutter, even if it was briefly, at Jacob's words.

A/N: And done! First chapter that doesn't have any of Jacob's perspective, and first chapter to be entirely from Mordred's POV. I feel like the part where she talks/attempts to comfort Jacob might have come out a bit awkward, though in hindsight, considering it's Mordred, I'm not sure there would be a perfect way for that to have happened lol! And what's this unfamiliar sensation she felt? Is her Saberface-sense tingling? So what did you guys think?

Also, if Jeanne is acting a bit OOC, I apologize, but I'm writing her with a sorta 'big sister' role, and so she might end up playing matchmaker for her Master or something haha.

Next chapter will pretty much cover the set-up for the expedition and at least a fair amount of the journey, so get ready in two or three chapters to meet our favorite English Rider and the Man of Muscles! :) Also, just finished watching Konosuba and halfway through Cells at Work, so I have plenty of happy energy to help me write again properly! :)

Now, for the question(s) of the day: What's the worst (be it poorly-written, bad premise, ectera) anime that you have seen? Second: If you could pick anyone from history who could be a Heroic Spirit that hasn't made an appeared in the Nauverse yet, who would you pick?

Once again, thanks for everything guys! Looking forward to reading y'alls feedback and chapter question answers. Hope you enjoyed, and see you all next time!