"Have you lost your damn mind?!" Arturia shouted at her child who returned home with a black eye, blood and bruises decorated all over her face and body.
Mordred frowned at the pressed ice on her slashed cheek. "I was helping someone, alright?" she adjusted the tissue to stop her nosebleed. "There's a gang bullying a kid and that freaking kid couldn't just fucking sit nicely when I'm dealing with those ugly guys!"
"Language, Mordred! That doesn't explain how you got so beaten up this bad!" Arturia retorted. "I thought I had the best knights around the Round Table."
The younger girl gasped, offended. "Well they just keep coming and coming, and I had to protect that brat, 'kay? Then this one dude threw a blade, I forgot I didn't have Clarent with me, and then the freaking thing cut my face! I can't reveal my armor or sword, so I had to deal with it! And when I wanna' show off my strength, the brat fucking ran to a brute guy, I had to endure a fucking punch! Then-"
"Stay still, Mordred. The ice is slipping off."
"But, Dad…!" she protested.
Arturia sighed as she continued to tend her son's injuries.
Scowling, Mordred rolled her eyes. "At least I am chivalrous."
"Yes," she nodded. "Yes, you are."