SQUIRREL and Tristan were sitting in brother Salt's kitchen, ready to be tortured. Ready to be killed. Ready to die in the most painful way they could think of.

"Shall we play now?" Brother Salt told Squirrel.

"You're the ugliest of them all. Inside and out. Kill me, fine. But you'll still be you forever. That's a worse hell than anything I can think of!"

"The toungue first, I think."

"Don't. Touch. Him." said Tristan, full of anger. He wanted to kill him, he wanted to kill them all. Tristan wanted the paladins to suffer as he suffered when he found his home destroyed and his family killed.

"Go on! Take it! I'll still keep talking." Squirrel has always been brave and sassy, he gets even more daring in front of danger. "I'll be in your nightmares talking, telling you how ugly you are. When you try and wake up, your eyes won't open 'cause you sewed them up like a bloody idiot!" he yelled.

Brother Salt was coming closer to him, but the curtain opened, revealing The Weeping Monk and a tall, feminine figure behind.

" Come to watch, my weeping brother?" instead of watching, the Weeping Monk pulled out a blade, slitting Salt's neck.

Guinevere rushed to her brother and Squirrel. She cut the ropes with a dagger the monk gave her.

"Guinevere!" she just smiled at them and turned to the Weeping Monk, giving him a soft smile as well. He saved them. There is good in him. She was right, he had a personal struggle. Maybe he finally saw the true light.

"Come quick."

They were all following the Monk, God knows where. He proved himself a friend, he proved himself thier saviour. He can be trusted, right?

"What an unlikely pair." said a stranger, surrounded by different men dressed in black, their faces covered by masks. "The Weeping Monk and the only descendant of the first Shadow Lord. Forbidden love, is it? How romantic."

Even after hearing this, the Monk didn't took his hand off of Guinevere's waist, keeping her safe behind him, avoiding the curious look Tristan was giving him. Squirrel was scared, he was holding tight onto her white dress, hoping they'll survive.

" Does he remind you of someone? This fey orphan?" the man mocked, like he was trying to upset him.

"You don't need him." answered the Weeping Monk.

"Why? Can't he smell out his own kind like some kind of animal? Or is that just your specie?" his specie? was The Weeping Monk fey? Now that was something. The man gestured to his soldiers to get ready to fight, making him and Tristan to take out their own swords.

" Find cover. " The Weeping Monk told Guinevere.

" I'm not letting you here! "

"Guinevere, for once in your life do as you're told!" he demanded. He didn't want to see Guinevere hurt, or worse, death.

"You do have a reputation, but this is the Trinity Guard. You know their skill. So be it." the man said and Guinevere watched with panick and horror how her brother and the Weeping Monk were being attacked. She took Squirrel's hand, hiding him.

"Listen to me Squirrel. You are not dying today. We are not dying today. Stay here." she said, kissing his forehead.

"Where are you going? Guinevere!" her days of hiding were long over. She faced death and defeted it many times. This time will be no different. It can't be.

She will either survive, either die fighting for those she loves. She isn't weak and tonight everyone will see it.

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

"Neco!" she yelled, three lifeless bodies of guards falling at her feet. Tristan and the Weeping Monk were getting tired, drained of energy. How long will this last?

A guard was ready to attack the Monk from behind, they seem to be more determined to kill him than to kill Tristan.

"Neco!" and once again, the guard fell down, dead.

"You were supppsed to stay hidden!" she just turned her head and continued killing the Trinity Guard from a distance.

For the first time in forever, Guinevere was resembleing both sides of her real identity. Light and Darkness. Good and Evil. A Shadow.

To her missfortune, one of the guards sneaked behind her. Lifting her up and covering her mouth.

"We got the girl. Surrender or she dies." Tristan and The Weeping Monk stopped. Both looking with fear at Guinevere who was kicking and trying to scream. She shouldn't have tried to fight. The two men were on the ground now, drained of power and worried.

"Who is first?" asked Squirrel, ready to fight for his friends. He was small, but he had courage and determination.

Seeing this, Guinevere's heart mealted, he was ready to fight for them, even if that meant his own death. This will hurt her more than it will hurt the guard.

Guinevere bounced her head back, hitting the man in the face and making him drop her. She killed him imediatly with her magic, that giving Tristan and The Weeping Monk enough time to end the others. Her head was hurting from the contact with the man's mask, but she tried to help up the Monk, as her brother was already standing.

"We have to go. Now." said Tristan. Guinevere helped Squirrel get the monk on a horse, before taking care of her brother. His body was hurting, every inch was in pain. It felt like having lots of broken glass piceses stuck in you. Tristan was hurt as well, but he could bear it, his injuries weren't that bad.

They were riding in silence, Guinevere was watching the Weeping Monk with interest. He never said a word to her since they left the camp. She wanted to say something to him, but she didn't know what.

"What..." Lancelot began, but he lost strenght. "What is your name, boy?" he asked Squirrel. Guinevere smiled, he didn't like his name, it was unlikely he'll reveal it.

"Squirrel."

"That..." he stopped again, she could only imagine in how much pain he is. "That is not a name. A squirrel is an animal."

"That's what they call me." the boy answered, shrugging.

"What did you parents name you?"

"I don't like that name." there was silence for a few moments, but Squirrel decided to give in, saying his real name. "Fine, they call me Percy."

"Percy?" the Weeping Monk asked.

"It's short for Percival, I think. Do you have a real name?"

"Lancelot." the Weeping Monk answered, looking at Guinevere who was staring intensivly at him. "A long time ago my name was Lancelot."

Guinevere was surprised, she never imagined that the Weeping Monk had a real name, she always saw him as some kind of persona, a character from a story.

"But you? What is your name?" Lancelot asked Guinevere's brother. He hesitated for a second. He was used to the Grey Monk being a killer, a merciless killer. But he saved his sister once and now he saved Squirrel. They fought side by side to protect the ones he cared for.

"Tristan."

"And now what? We can't ride forever." said the girl.

"There's cave close."

"Yes, but they'll search for us. I'm sure they will. We can't hide for too long." Lancelot was watching Guinevere carefully, she was his new beginning.