MORDRED was watching Guinevere sleep in the corner of his tent.He put aside the armour he borrowed to appear like a knight, not a prince. Sitting on the bed, his head resting in his hands, he was looking at the girl.

He was indeed intrigued by her, Guinevere was the daughter ot two powerful magicians, yet she seemed so normal, so ordinary...

His grandfather, the Ice King, was making a deal with Morgause and Theodore. It was a total shock for them when the first Shadow Lord and his wife showed up before them, suggesting a deal. It was a mistery what happened to Theodore,many belived he was just a story and those who once knew the Shadow Lord tought of him as dead. But there he was. Flesh and bones.

Morgause and her husband get the girl, they get her brother. Tristan. The traitor's son. If Mordred was honest, he barely knew what happened between Raphael and his own family, but they all just simply hated him. He picked up a piece of parchment to write a letter to his aunt, Edys. Cumber's eldest daughter.

Edys,

I have her. I have the girl Morgause wants. She'll offer our help with Raphael's son. Grandfather will be proud.

Come here as soon as you get this.

Mordred

Mordred was sitting there for hours when he saw Guinevere slowly opening her eyes. He rushed to her side, covering her mouth, stopping her from saying any spell.

"Listen here, witch." he began, his usual charming and calm self vanishing, turning more harsh and plain aggressive. "If you try anything, I swear to God I'll kill you." this wasn't true, he needed to get Guinevere alive, but it was a good way to keep her in place.

Mordred then proceeded to tie her hands and legs, covering her mouth with a filthy piece of cloth.

Guinevere stood there, angry yet hopeless. She had no idea what to do, how could she do a spell when her mouth was tied so tight she couldn't even make the slightest noise. A Red Paladin entered the tent.

"Your aunt's here, Mordred." he told him. Mordred got off the bed, following the paladin and giving Guinevere a warning look.

That was her chance. She wasn't going to wait for him to kill her, she needed a plan, fast. But what could she do?

She was tied and unable to speak. A deadly combination. In addition to her despair and fear there came a nauseous feeling. Guinevere wanted to throw up for no reason and she was getting colder and colder, until the girl could no longer feel her fingers. Why was she feeling this way?

She felt like she was going mad. The girl began to hear voices, ghostly and ancient voices.

"Guinevere. "

"The once and future Lady of Shadows."

"Call out to your inner Shadow Lord."

"Feel the power. Connect with the dark Gods. "

"Feel the power."

The fuck was this? Was she going mad? Who's even talking? Maybe the High Priestesses? Maybe this divinity the Red Paladins worship so passionately? She couldn't tell.

"Connect with the dark gods. Welcome the power."

"It's all in your blood. Claim your fate."

"Let the power of the shadows give you freedom."

The voices were getting more and more quite, like the person talking was distancing from her.

Guinevere calmed down once this all was over. Still shaking she tried to follow that advice. Call out to some great power or shit. It was crazy, but hell, all of this was crazy.

She tried, the girl did her best to visualise her ropes turning to dust. To visualise her freedom.

Come on, Guinevere. Be an awsome Shadow Lord or some shit. She could see it in her mind, the ropes slowly disintegrating, turning to ashes.

It all felt like a tornado inside her, the floor was spinning under the girl, her surroundings were unclear. Guinevere could feel the rope's grip becoming looser. Maybe it actually works. She kept concentrating, trying to break free.

In the end, the ropes turned to dust, leaving some red, irritated marks on her once soft skin. Guinevere quickly removed the cloth from her face and then freed her legs.

She was actually proud of this, but it didn't last. Now what? She can't get out just like that, they're too many. All her worries were interupted by someone storming into the tent. She jumped slightly, her heart pounding. Looking up, Guinevere expected to see Mordred, but it wasn't him. It was the Weeping Monk.

What was he doing here? Did he come to kill her? Would he do that? Was there any chance he is here to save her?

"Come with me." It was all he said, the monk was surprised to see her untied, but it was no time for questions. Guinevere didn't know what to do. Go with him? If he wanted her dead, he could have simply left her to Mordred.

She took a deep breath, taking his hand. That's it. It is what it is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" Where are we going?" she asked as they reached another tent.

"We're taking that small boy," Squirrel "and that man that was with you at the mill."

"Tristan is here?" she said worried. Is her brother fine? What's he doing here in the first place?

"Stay here." he demanded, taking out his sword.

"Hell no. I'm not letting my brother and my friend. They're all I have, I'm coming." she said with determination.

"You don't have a weapon. And even if you had, you don't know to fight." He said as a matter of fact, earning a small glare from her.

"Go ahead, underestimate me." she began. Guinevere was used to people questioning her ability to defend herself, due to her delicate figure and lack of fighting skills. "Maybe I can't use those weapons as well as you can. But I have my magic, stop thiking I'm weak."

He looked closely at her, staring into her blue-green eyes that were glowing in the moonlight. The Weeping Monk found himself adimiring her, behind her soft apparence there was power, there was courage. There was something magical.

" As you wish, Guinevere. " he said, letting her come along, but still keeping his arm in front of her, protectivly. He care for the young Shadow Lord more than he would like to admit.