OSIRIS VALENSKY: Heyo! It's alright, I hope your sickness went away. Thank you for being my reader since from the start and I do remember you by the way. That's exactly why I put the letter in there ya know, good job! *thumbs up!*

Stratos268: More like a new adventure XD pokemon much hahaha. But in the question of how they kidnapped her, it was said as such Merlin is absent. Even though Camelot had the pride of their knights of a round table it doesn't mean Camelot isn't vulnerable when Merlin is not around to inform them of the shifts he felt in his magic. And since Vivian can't control his magic then no one could have alert them that there's been a breach. The guards are foot soldiers not knights so they have no fight against a druid who can deceive a human brain. Ah, the power of magic. Well done pointing that.

Amerdism(13 & 15): (13) Yes, Guinevere's memory has been except Mordred because Merlin has to erased everything that resembles Altria's birthday on everyone's mind. Mordred's predicament is no brainer, she's with Altria- the sole reason of the hunt and thus, Merlin do not want to be near the babe when Altria's literally near so he can't cast any spells that will set off the alter. (15) And thankfully you realize my writing pattern differs from last year because of, one: it's been so long, two: I didn't dig deeper and write their mindsets or internal debate to their surroundings, I only written what they do at that very spot and three; I'm in so dip shit on my vocabulary- must be because of my hibernation. About the Mama thing instead of mother thing, well; let's put it this way; one, it is Guinevere's POV with a little bit of Mordred's in there, two: it is a way to say Mordred change in the eyes of her mother because three: she is hiding something and name changing is just one way to know she's in deep thoughts, angry, secretive or polite. You'll do the exact same way too if you don't want someone digging into your concern. Four: look at Mordred's interaction with her father in the same chapter, she didn't say 'father', she said 'Dada' and five: she is a child, she doesn't know her transition to Mama and mother can affect said person because to her. Mama is Guinevere; mother is what Guinevere is to her so it's just the same even if she aged. Well done, mate I love you (not that way) for seeing that.

UnkownSoul: Hmm, maybe because it's baby Mordred and baby's just blurt things out they want to say.

DLFangrill: Making a name is simple, sword skill's ehhhhh…. You'll know soon.

ZenoZen: Hey Zeno, sorry it's been a while. I didn't forget about you, you know. You're one of the reasons why I continue this story so here's one for you.

Johnstonrichard3: They wouldn't dare now.

Dragon Man 180: Ooh, that's a tricky statement there. I know just about a right person to get revenge other than Mordred and for Mordred but you know what, how about a twist?

Guys a little help, what do you think is the best way to win a siege in the medieval times? I searched for it but it's just been a bunch of tactics on 'how' to siege which is helpful but a little less dramatic on the perspective.

WARNING: TRIGGER AT WEISS PERSPECTIVE SO ERR, BE CAREFUL.

"What do your mind conjure when I said 'power', little one?" the Lady asked her, anticipating her answer. They are in a garden of lavender, basked in the sun in a bench far from the castle. They have their basket of food, a horse and satchel; filled with buttons, clothes, needles and threads. She is to accompany wherever her Lady goes, when she proved too progressive for the teachers at the castle.

She can write, read, do mathematics and train in a noble etiquette. They were dazed, and the babe alleged it humorous they presume her to be an inane boorish. She's a princess after all before she can be a knight.

The princess considered her answer, picking threads and needles and organizing where is which.

Power. It's something that protect. It is something a person has with an aim to acquire.

Mordred knew of power, knew of the things it can do or all the things it can destroy.

Power is destructive, as well as it is the driving force of Life. Power is her father, who reigned with passion to his people. A power to ease her unsteady heart, with an embrace of a possessive dragon to its fledgling. Power is father, for he would find her anywhere, no matter where she goes. He is the pinnacle of her dream, to step beside her father, to be blinded by his Kingdom's prosperity.

Power is her mother, who hold father with love and council. A power who did not led astray. A power to humiliate men with her words, a woman of her title imposing as her name. Power is mother's kisses, it keeps her warm at cold winters and her hugs a pillow to the dreams of her mind.

Power is Weiss, who raised her hand in the sky which beckoned a storm and smashed a four decade barrier of the known most powerful wizard in boredom, cleaved by a small hand. Without boasting her achievement, merely to prove her worth. Power is her dominion, of hustles and hellions to spook unwanted people of her own choice.

Power is friendship. Of those people who gives happiness and accepts her for what she is, who supported her thoughts, who gives advices to her wrongdoing. It is companionship, the power to connect to others with her heart, to trust them with her secrets, to give them chance for a second time.

The knights have powers. The people. The enemies. The creatures behind nature. They might have a different race but they are still a person with will, conscience and heart. They're the same as human, or better yet, superior than man. Everything has power. There's no such thing as powerless, for one can attempt a decision from their heart. Where determination they willingly give, comes the power to gain the unachievable of their lives.

So she gave an answer, vague at best. "A person."

Maureen glanced at her long, as if digging through her soul the answer to her simple question, skimming into her honesty. Mordred meet her eyes head on, open and true, for she hold no secret of her love to her precious people.

The Lady smiled at her sheer fire, her eyes smothered with courage, filled with so much adoration.

"You know, when I voiced such word, I am prepared to listen a tirade from a mind so young. Yet here you are, were I am impressed beyond my expectations. A single word, but you have answered it like you meant the very word. Why is that?"

Mordred tilts her head up, crunching her noise with a little bit of mischief, exceeding those walls of innocence they thought she had. "Power is…. Ya know, to me power is something you wield effectively. Everyone has it, they could in all extent use it differently that would benefit them. Magic is power, yes, but how could magic materialize without a person to wield it? Sentient beings, mythical creatures, even God- they are their own person, they shared it, gave others their gift and they were worshipped or feared. So power is a person."

The Lady applauded, stricken by the child's resilient words. She heard many human so passionate of their beliefs, even children who dreamed to be powerful and knighted, or a fairytale and adventure they seek. Yet here is her squire, a child- an innocent child. So full of trust, so full of love. She remembered the young Altria back when they were saplings, so full of cheer and goal. She hoped it would last."

CHAPTER XVI: NEW WORLD; WORDS FULFILLED

For five days in a row, she can't sleep in the dead of the night. Mordred has adapted quite well, waking up before the sun rises and dipping into the cold morning lake with her in tow with no apparent realization of her dilemma.

Who could if she doesn't even for a moment dropped her guise of invisibility? Afraid to be seen. Afraid to be held by filthy hands of the people who dirtied her childhood memories.

She grew wary, too mute to even be noticed by the princess- but Mordred is here, her presence is like a sun, calming and soothing, so Weiss stick close to the little squire and helped if needed.

She didn't know what compelled her to seek the blonde, to accept the agreement with the King or to accompany her to this beastly place. Maybe Weiss wants to repay her debt to the royalty? Or she truly wants to see if the King is true to his word, that this place has been redeemed, has been cleanse by the evil spawn of deeds of men.

But she disagree, nothing change.

True, Weiss saw the improvement in the clean streets, bountiful harvests and fresh air, but the people, the power holding the place, it doesn't change.

It is the same cruel men, baby maker women and workers who lived like slaves. A word 'squire' would be quite laughable if it only means you could be a 'servant' to the host. A servant in equal hold for a 'knight'; a mocking revolt to the King's respectable title. Thank the goodness Lady Maureen is different or else Weiss has bitten the bush and include her in her list who will be not spared when the purge is near. She hated it, to be slapped in the face of the reality, of hoping something has been amended. She grew disappointed. She grew to not believe the King's words.

With that said she was still, in a nocturnal state- a sleep deprive child who sees the cruelty of the world. She wanted to save the place, not because it is her birthright, no. She wanted to purify these place; a bridge across the land of Avalon. So she must do something, in preparations of the visions she saw. Just a small thing is enough. A baby steps to improvisation. A way to help Mordred take over something destined to her by her father.

She stands up unto her small chair, silently moving upon the snoring princess of the realm.

Weiss tilts her head to the side…. Then, she smiled as she looks at the sorry state the princess is in. The babe wore a big cloth that rolls down her slump shoulder which passed close to her knees ridden up to expose her loincloth and up into the round belly of the babe. The arms were in uncomfortable angles with legs sprouted like a ballerina in its dancing shoes. Mordred's hair, if awake was almost tamed- is now like a tentacles of sorts, bristled like a wolf's fur pointing in different places, tangled and messy.

Weiss pushed the blankets close to the princess's chin and reassembling haphazard limbs sprawled on the hard mattress before dabbing a cloth in the line of drool, shaking her head at the less appealing side of Mordred. She gives Mordred credit however to sleep comfortably in a scratchy chute and humid room without windows to relieve the stench of sweat with barely light to see what's in front of them.

'Thank heavens she doesn't smell horrible. Come to think of it, she doesn't smell anything awful other than ripe apple.' Weiss thought, waving a hand to the lit lamp, smothering its flame with her magic.

Satisfied with her work, the fairy step out of Mordred's chamber to the sleeping Lady and out the halls without making a sound. She waited for minutes to see if there's a soldiers roaming about. She grew satisfied with a bare amount of comfort, passing the halls without seeing a movement of life.

She could still remember these halls, once a nightmare she lived for years before she was saved with her mother. She recalls the rocky floor, where she would be dragged on her hair as her screams reverts in the walls like a small quakes, thunderous and miserable, without anyone even make an effort to relieve her pain. She have seen the faces who ignored her, those who helped her and her mother in the siege of knights of that faithful day and those who were new, albeit familiar with the customs of the castle.

Her muscles grew strained when her feet led her to the chamber whom she was tortured, as she can still taste the blood on her teeth, the pain in between and the scar of sensitivity she barred in men. It was lighted, justified by the dim light passing on the floor below the door. There were voices; two voices in fact. Voices that speak of pleasure, as if it echoes in her ears the voice of her father who steal her chastity. Voices she recalled as Lord Ohbert's and an unknown lady. Not Lady Maureen who slept peacefully in her chambers. No, just a lady. A whore lady. Her stomach coiled and she bared her hands into fists.

There are four things she hated the most about humankind:

The stupidity of humanity.

Women's submissiveness to be a complete whore to men.

Infidelity or Betrayal of a loved ones.

And the most important of all; the existence of men.

She is repulsed. She is disgusted.

She raised her palms up the door….

But she drew no magic. No incantation. No vulgar words to sprout.

She let it limp to her side, as if the energy in her left her system.

She might have hated it with passion, or she might curse it upon her grave…

Yet she has no ill will to kill. She has no choice but to endure her pain.

Humans, even other races make mistakes, dirtied by their sins or were they lost redemption of their soul. However loved she was to the idea of extinction of men, by wallowing into her hatred and letting it foster her view to the humanity as a whole… makes her no better than the people, who likely scarred her bare.

It would not benefit her mindset, nor will it ease the pain she had suffered. Moreover, it would taunt her vengeance- a sickening emotion repulsed by her little heart.

So she slithered away, head bowed low vanishing towards her secret haven in this damnable castle.

She walks far down the castle, towards a blind pane of grasses and high into the woods. Into a fallen branch she scoot down, sliding down its dark trunk and crawl at the vein of thorns in a shady moor. The thorns do nothing but caress her like a sweet newborn before she entered a blinding forest, where flowers are shining and is made of colorful gems and stones. She looks at the horizon with her fairy vision and sees the Gates of Avalon.

Her sisters greeted her with a hum of pleasant air. They gazed, welcomingly, upon her slump form.

She smiled, genuinely before she sat into the ground, coiled like a snake and cried her heart out.

She didn't know what happened, on how the Lord Ohbert has been giving her a very difficult time.

For one she was diligent as a squire and Lady Maureen's words to guide her at dusk till dawn. She require bath at the slow peak of sunlight, clothed to pray at the church at the back of the castle –even if she disinterestedly close her eyes and think of her parents-, pull the Lady's clothes and draw a bath, leave to bought the Lady's food and like a puppy, she would follow her wherever she goes. So she was quite stumped, when said Lord had shouted her name, saying made-up curses while holding his round belly and wafting off unpleasant smell of human feces that falls every few minutes unto the floor.

She doesn't have enough time to pull a very disgusting- if not shrewd prank to harm the Lord. She was at loss of what to do until her Lady, defended her with teeth and claws. She was called demon's spawn, is needed of punishment of diluting the Lord's appetite for food and poisoning him so he would exert feces without his violation.

She's in dreadful state of misperception but speak none, as is the Lady had lectured her in her rudeness to the Lord of the castle, even though she is right and just. She compelled to her Lady, but she will speak when necessary to protect those she cared.

Once, she was in the garden, with a fruit basket in hand when the Lord have grassed into her, deride and pompous with those smell still in place. He said if she were to stay as Lady Maureen's squire, she will do as he said. She didn't talk then, when the Lady has been there chastising the Lord. But the fat man is having none of it, and he ordered her to gather a pile of apples up into the tree without dirtying her shirt and trousers.

The Lord ridiculed her, as if such simple task is unbearable.

She would have disobeyed, if not for Weiss' wise words whispered by the breeze.

'You are alive so keep living. You have two feet so keep walking. You have a choice then wield it. If you're hesitant, I have one word for you: just do it.'

With a surge of energy, Mordred sniff that day. It is quite artless but nonetheless muddled when the Lord had struck the bargain when he had nothing to say about her servitude to the Lady. The apple tree was with a dirty saps and slightly wet branches when the light drizzle grazed the land that night. So she did the task quite droll, the Lady said that day. She never know; it's a normalcy for her.

She put the basket down gently, before doffing off her clothes other than a loincloth.

The servants gasped with the Lord and Lady of the castle. Carefully putting her clothes in a good patch of dry rocks to not sully her clothes, she stands and picked up the basket; put it into her head as if it was a headdress before climbing up, naked.

The tasked was completed, without sullying her clothes.

She was then left alone for a moment, before she was called, yet again to do his bidding. Lady Maureen is not amused, but contented that Mordred has a mind for such thing, thus was in a side supporting her silently.

She is to walk at night in a forest. She is to find the tallest tree and tie a golden rope in its trunk. The Lady warned her of wolves and occasional bears, and the Lord hoped she were to die in the forest, mauled by their beastly fangs and paws. But Mordred is resolute; she will prove the Lord those animals are not beastly, and wished he would eat his words. She left the castle with the golden rope and a small lamp, with the Lord vehemently making her heed to the locks of the doors and militias to guard it to prevent her from coming in for the night.

She gripped her lamp tightly, unafraid of the woods. When she was deep in the moors, did she forget a simple fact of the night. She could not see the tallest tree in the darkest hours with a lamp. And then she evoked his words.

She tried to settle on a lonely branch, flies and mosquitoes are a great nuisance. When she jumped down, did she hear the grumble of a wolves purr. She stared at them, golden irises glowing, four that time. Gray wolves, a pack of some sort. She have smiled at them like a long lost friend, undaunted as she was with her pet Lionas and the wolves had accept her like a pup.

So, with that being said, the pack had led her into their den, where she was greeted with six white pups, in an age of three to four months. There, she slept until the dawn breaks and she saw the tallest tree. She tied the trunk with the golden rope before walking back to the castle.

She was greeted with farce words then, of the Lord stammering obscenities being rebuked by a soldier who confirmed the tasked fulfilled.

"You said that I was to walked at the woods," she explained, quite smug as the Lord sizzle in his saliva. "You didn't say I was to find the tree at night."

"How are you not dead!?" he demanded, amusing the mischievous child all the more.

"Didn't you know?" she liked how she was gaining attention, winning by some play of his indefinite orders with ambiguities. "I'm a lion cub of my Mama! I'm a princess of the Jungle!"

If they listened well, they would've known she was telling the whole truth.

Then, not a day after that, she was ordered to make the Lord sleep at the very spot he was standing, without leaving the room to bring a draught or a musical instrument to lull him into slumber. Mordred was audibly twitching at the stupidity, hesitant to the slightest jeer of the Lord. She looked at the Lady for guidance, but said Lady was silent, muted as she watched in interest of what she will do. She have a glint in her eyes, flickering by the lamp and torches of the chamber they are in.

The Lord sniggered at her then, closing his eyes so she could do everything she wanted to find, expecting her to leave the room and caught her in the act so she could leave her title as a squire, shameful and crying to her peasant family.

Mordred done none of that, yet she was with a burning flame in her heart. Call her all they want with their leers and snarky replies, but no family of hers would be insulted by a Lord who knows nothing of her father's and mother's scion.

So she inspects the room, a small library, she would say. The chair and the lamps, the shelves and the windows and the floors and tables, nothing escape her notice. She didn't need a lyre or a flute to do his bidding. Why would she do that when she have an alternative?

She pulled a huge and hardwood book, with heavy cover and plated flat steel on its spine and edges. So she takes the book, and silently walked behind the still closed eyed man, bragging for nothing.

She put the book on an arm reach, twisting her waist for the force. She throws it, as hard as she could. As a matter of fact to the princess, and what her father clearly told her with pride; Mordred has an aim of a true archer, as is the book sail at the man with deadly accuracy to his nape, edge first before the heavy slam rocked the man on his step, down and motionless to the floor, unconscious.

She would have pulled a chair yet her small frame prohibited her.

The Lady was satisfied, almost chortling at the foolish husband, and few days had gone by with the Lord in his room, tended by the Maester of herbs and health.

So when that morning came, Mordred jerk in surprise as a hand slammed on her table, sloshing her food quite messily on the ground and dirtying the table with a fresh grape essence she worked hard to squeeze. She stared, forlorn. She is quite famished, not even a bite and her chance are destroyed.

She looked at Lord Ohbert in confusion, saying nothing into the enrage face of the fat man. She is still at the dark of his ire as she have done nothing wrong.

"Go into the market," his voice is authoritative, calm unlike his past snarls. Mordred twitch in discomfort, silently hoping the Lady would come quick for naught. "And fetch me a woman who will quench my thirst for lust, rode me like a stallion I am and would shake my whole body as I trembled with passion." With those parting words he fled.

Mordred grew strained, tilting her head to the side. Such words are practically confusing, but she resist no tempt to dissuade the Lord. She didn't know any of those words, but she will find a woman who can rode him like a stallion and who can emit a tremble in his body.

"Got it." She said. The task is a mere played words for a specific person.

Mordred knows just about a good person for his task. So with it and a mournful farewell to her food, a question to an old lady, a bid of farewell to her Lady and a hand full of Dinadan did Mordred shuts out of the castle as if in pursuit.

Yes, she has a woman to track and find.

Dinadan run with the princess, a full blown grin in his usually wolfish mischief.

"Oh he will be in one quite interesting surprise," he snickered, ruffling the blonde mane.

Mordred gave him a toothy smirk, before they raced on the market, asking direction on where to go.

"Oh? Why hello, dear." An aged women in a noble clothing answered the door, kind yet poised, unafraid to bent down at her level to see her eye to eye. "And what do I owe the pleasure of serving you, young one?"

Mordred merely grinned, scratching her nape as she looked at friendly eyes, embarrassed. Dinadan thought it fit to interrupt then, placing his hands to the princess' small shoulder.

"Hello, my Lady! If I may ask, are you my Lord Ohbert's mother? Your son has demanded for…. Specific invitation only you can provide."

Lord Ohbert's eye twitched.

"You fetched me my mother." He stated, blandly at the princess who tilts her head to his unsatisfied expression.

"Well, yes?" she slowly answered, confused as she'll ever be. Sometimes she would tick her hands on her trousers, recalling if she were to overlook something that the man in front of her was displeased about. "You said to bring you a woman who can rode you like a stallion and who can emit a tremble in your body. I felt it when my Mama's angry at me so I do as she pleased and I would shake in my bones because I don't like her becoming angry. Isn't it the same to you? "

The Lord could not refute.

Mordred had accomplished her tasked with a less than stellar reaction from the Lord, who has a mother on his tail, disciplining his arrogant behavior.

Alas, such day had come where she was humbly called in the Lord's work room, behind the Lady who was without an ounce of hesitance to her steps. They entered, expecting words harsher than blades.

Yet they were none.

There in the window stood the Lord, back into the light of the moon, making his silhouette intimidating with his unusually clear brown eyes.

Mordred stood there, quiet. Awaiting another order, on guard to masked her expression.

"You have fulfilled my whims and for naught you accomplished it." The Lord praised, so unexpected the princess has taken aback. His voice speaks of confidence, lace with icy irony to his past actions. "But with it I am humored, and with my last feat I expect nothing less…"

The princess bated breath, gripping the words uttered like a life line, towards the comfort of the awkwardness hanging in the air.

"… with this task fulfilled, I am to step down my place as Mourdruide's Lord. Such… is my devotion to a task I knew no one would succeed, especially to a child the likes of you." With the growing silence, the Lord continues.

"You are to bring me something worth of a lifetime. Something that can be broken, mend, forged, crossed and cut. It can be forgotten or it could be disciplined all your life. It is with trust or deceit. A false or truth in it. It can bend mountains, part seas and annihilate kingdoms. Bring me something unimaginable, deep without your heart… you will see what it was."

She could only gawked, immeasurably uncomfortable.

On what folly will she find something so huge of a favor!?

She's in predicament, en passé and weary. The blue moon's rays did nothing to calm her heavy heart. Nor were the tears she shed nonstop. Without sleep and a water to quench her aching stomach for days, she would've deemed it miracle to live, if not for the wood elves that seeps her humanly weakness.

She didn't come back into the castle. Afraid in fact, to be reminded by the phantoms of her childhood.

It was no mistake she were here, she told herself she was strong, that none would crumble her walls.

Yet such is just that; words.

Take her support given by her mother and she'll be a duckling in a pond of flesh eating fishes. Take the freedom of movement gifted by the King and she will be caged in her nightmares.

Dinadan is a great companion, yet one glance and she'll flinch at the reminder of his masculinity.

Her respite, though absent, is from the thought of a blonde princess who was in the castle of Mourdruide.

So she wait there, beyond the plains after the long journey to a lively forest, to a grassy field with flowers that blooms beautifully greeting the moon above, picking flowers with her deft and lithe hands, slow and not pressured, paced with her inner turmoil.

"There you are!" an exclaimed brought her back out her musing, as the princess bounding into her worn with a cloak and her custom clothes bear furrowed brows.

Weiss averts facing the tot, who dropped unto her side and breathe a heavy sigh of resigned.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, ya know…." Her companion said, and she gave no reason to retort. She just sits there, awaiting long elucidations, perfectly resolved to hide her tired mien to the squire.

"The fat Lord gave me my last task, do ya know? It is difficult as he said it was. It is riddled, I know but… still, I cannot imagine such an object worth its moniker! Part seas. Bend mountains… hah! That's quite a feat is it not?"

She didn't retort, merely heeding to the exaggerated tirade of the babe. The cricket's wing hums creating relaxing scenery of peace, and the wind blows on the grass awakening hundreds of fireflies that lit up the night.

"Are you listening to me?"

A nod.

"Do you think I will obtain the thing the Lord told?"

Another nod of the head.

"Weiss…" a hand gripped her sleeves, beckoning her to look in the speaker to no avail. "Weiss? Are you mad at me?"

Weiss hummed in surprised, dumbstruck at those lofty words. Mad? To Mordred?

"No." she replied all too quickly, shaking her head. A hand caught her chin, pushing it to face the princess. She let it be, but place her eyes at the scenery of all instead of the blonde babe.

"Then why aren't you looking at me? You hide from me too. I couldn't find you for days. And nights." the words sounds accusatory, if not for a fact Weiss heard the hurt laden in her boyish voice. She let a small peak in vibrant eyes and there she was stricken, trapped in the concern radiating onto it, leaning close to see her face.

"Hey…" Mordred began, squinting her eyes as if putting something into pieces. Weiss thought it romantic, two children in a field with fireflies, close as if to kiss… "… why do you look like a bear? A sleep deprived bear at that."… if the blonde didn't accursed her like an animal, she would've believed.

She scowled, trying to pull her face free of the fingers holding her chin, when a thumb below her eyes froze her attempt.

The princess met her eyes, and she grinned.

Not a grin with mischief or fakeness.

Nor was it rogue or wolfish.

She grinned with so much joy, eyes closed to accommodate chubby cheeks pushed by the most and the brightest of grins.

Weiss didn't know why her face seems so warm, or her heart to speed up its beats.

Yet she knew one thing; it makes her safe.

"Idiot. I thought you're ranting about your task. Don't you want to complete it quickly then? So don't bother me."

"Ehh…" Mordred tilts her head to the side, a duplicitous giggle bubbling on her throat. "You're more important at the moment. I don't want to spend another night thinking of your whereabouts when you're here trying to be sneaky."

"… Stupid." She chuckled, pushing away the face half- heartedly, straightening shoulders slump for the duration of the week. She felt the fresh air filled her lungs, without a single problem to block its ease of passage. For a moment she distress. For a while she forgot her nightmares, until the princess takes it all away.

"Truly, you look like you didn't sleep well." Mordred pushed, compelling the limbs off of crown of flowers to take one for her own. Mordred intertwined slightly calloused hands unto Weiss' soft ones, assuring, as if willing to listen by her whim. Her voice is somber, childish yet mature. "You didn't sleep for days now, are ya? I've been searching every night of your presence at the castle, but you were not there."

Weiss gripped the hand upon hers, trying to find the courage for the words.

Mordred is a good child, from a just family with a mother and father to guide her well. She is meticulous to her belief and determined to prove the world with her feats. She is charming, witty and prideful- no one wouldn't cave to her might.

Yet she is also loyal to her companions, a great friend in need. She is compassionate to those she held dear. Furious to those she disliked. And has different sides of character to show each and every people she comes across on her life.

She could be trustful yet so full of deceit. Happy and full of fury.

Can she trust one so difficult? Can she open up to a child who has an enthusiastic viewpoint of goodness to the world?

Can she trust Mordred? Can she ease her pain? Can she accept her even if she's broken? Dirtied? Used? Filthy at such a young age?

Will she be offended? Will she push her away? Will she gossip about her secrets? Will she tell her sullied life to everyone she befriended?

She's scared to trust, scared to lose a precious person. She's afraid to speak.

She can't.

Maybe Mordred will-

"Hey," Mordred called her racing thoughts, giving her hand a squeezed of security. "I won't force you, alright? I will be here if you need me. So.. ya know," a thumb trace her chin again and Weiss blinked, astounded. "Cry all you want. I won't go anywhere."

When did she start crying?

She tried to breathe but a tension leaves her throat constricted and her nose to turn red in the upcoming pressure on her face.

So she sobbed, until it became two. Then three. Four. Continuous burning whimpers, she slapped her mouth with both of her hands, trying to rein the sound, trying to hide her pain.

Can she trust Mordred?

Will she accept her for what she is?

But Mordred's eyes are so enthrallingly sincere. So utterly comforting her walls crumbled like dirt in an avalanche of land.

Weiss then realized, she was asking the wrong question.

Does she trust Mordred?

Yes, yes she did.

She flings her body to already opened arms, crying in small shoulders, encircling warm neck. She wailed on Mordred's ear, whimpering at the tension of her tattered heart.

Mordred let her be, if not, all the more she tighten her arms as much as her small limbs can hold, not minding the wet sensation nor the ear piercing screams.

Mordred cooed on her ear, like how her mother would calm her broken cries. "I'm here, Weiss. I'm always here. I promise."

And so Weiss felt her, who opens the doors of gilded cage, of the iron maiden hiding her anguish. She brings up the lid of her Pandora box, telling the princess of her childhood. Of what her body endure. Of what cause her mind to break. Of her window of soul to be bashed again and again.

She told her of her raped. Of hopelessness. Of her demise.

She told her of loneliness. Of unimaginable pain to lose innocence. To be under pressure.

To be controlled. To be ordered dirtier than a dog. Ruthlessly enslave. Abused. Used every night. Humiliated in prying eyes.

Shamed by stripping in public. By being used by the public. By being watched as an auction.

She was paid for it. To be used by many, partnered or just plain mobbed by unappealing mass of men.

She is tortured. Expected to play like an animal. Treated worse than animal. Borrowed by men. Played by men.

Laughed by men. An interesting art for children. A delectable excitement for women.

And when she finished, she realized the bruising gripped of the princess, who had a quiver on her shoulder and a wail of cries of her own.

She never told anyone, and to blindly trust Mordred is one of her greatest relief so far. Not even the Knights and the King knows of the extent she and her mother suffered at the hands of this people. It felt liberating, like a float to the clouds. She smiled despite of tears. She laughs at her sorry state. She laughed to the world who tortured her so.

Mordred shed tears, tears for the little fairy in her arms. Tears of fury. Tears of joy. Tears of guilt. Tears of sorrow. Relief. Disgust. Acceptance. Bitterness. Hatred. Hopelessness. Love. Forgiveness.

It is suffocating, so utterly devastating.

She knows not of what she done and thought, but she willed her arms up towards the fairy's face and clasped swelling cheeks down to hers.

She meets those lips with hers.

I'm sorry. Forgive me. How dare they. I am thankful. I didn't know. I'll protect you. I won't let them hurt you anymore. I'll kill them. I will be there. I want to take your pain away. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you. Cry. Please don't cry. Don't forgive them. I'll remember. You're important. I want you. Don't let go. You're my precious person. I'll protect you. I will. I would. I love you. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I am thankful. I am glad I met you. I want you. Please let me in. I'll treasure you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you. I will protect you. I promise. I promise.

She feels smooth flesh. Taste salty tears. Smell velvety fragrance. See obvious blush. Hear thudding hearts.

It is not a kiss of a parent to a child.

Nor was it a kiss of greeting to stranger.

Nor was it a kiss of friends.

Nor was it a kiss of lovers.

No.

It is a kiss of promise.

A promise of a lifetime.

A promise forged by their bond.

A promise of oath to keep.

A promise of trust.

A promise of truth.

A promise that can move mountains.

A promise that can part seas.

A promise which can ruin kingdom.

A promise born from the unimaginable.

A promise deep within Mordred's heart.

She pulls away, only to nuzzle the fairy on the temple, crying all the same.

"I promise. Weiss, I promise."

"You succeed."

Did she? At what cost?

A baritone voice stopped Mordred in her catatonic state of walking. Her arms folded, carrying a sleeping fairy clutching her shirt in her death grip.

Mordred lets her. She won't let her go.

Footsteps echoes on silent hallway and Mordred impassively stare at the Lady Maureen, next to a young man who looks similar to the Lady. He wear dark clothes and soddy footwear. He had a cloak that blends to the darkness.

He grinned at her like he has seen a feat of the century. Mordred don't care.

He's a man.

She gripped Weiss harder close to her chest. She felt numb but she won't let go.

She promised.

"Can't you recognize me, young one?" the man talks, but Mordred don't care.

Someone from this place. One of the people who dirtied Weiss. She didn't want to know him. They are all the same.

"It is I, Lord Ohbert. Well, merely Ser Ohbertus, Knight of Mourdruide now. Interesting fact, there's no title of the Lord who bears the title of Mourdruide since it is waiting for an heiress of the kingdom. A king who salvaged what is innocent in the roots." Mordred almost makes a sound of astonishment, when she thought of the fat Lord and the man in front of her that speaks of firm practice and training to build such frame.

But he's with them. The people. The disgusting people.

The man chuckled, scratching his nape nervously. "I was cursed by the Lady of the Lake. It is prophesized that a 'Knight of Birthright' would break my spell. It would break if you consummate the words I uttered last with all the trust I have, fulfilled within the deepest heart. I might not see your heartfelt 'promise', but you bring me my freedom still. So I'm grateful of you, young one. You have my word as my debt repaid. I will be your knight into this very day. You are to owe the castle and the Land of Mourdruide now, with it comes duty to the people."

Duty? To the hellions? To whoremongers and whores?

Mordred stared hard, processing what she was given. The man was still speaking, telling her that Lady Maureen is his sister, where they are in cover because of the fairies advice to be.

But she cared not of that.

She cared none.

They are all the same. Innocent looking, but they hurt Weiss. Weiss is scared of them. They are threat. All of them are.

She can't even lift a smile on her face in her accomplishment. Can't even push false cheer in her eyes.

If her passing make her the Lady of Mourdruide and earned the Lord's place in the castle, to uphold duty to the same people who hurt her Weiss?

It doesn't diminish the fact that in order to complete her tasked, is to find a bigger burden to be revealed. To promise with conviction. To promise with her might.

I'll never be one of them. I hate them. I hate them.

"Fuck you." Mordred cussed, surprising the two people in front of her. She doesn't care about how they will react.

She doesn't care of what happens tomorrow.

Nothing matters. Just Weiss. And promised. Her promise.

Fuck the Lord.

Fuck the Lady.

Fuck Moudruide.

Fuck its people.

She grits her teeth, not letting stubborn tears to fall. She holds Weiss close, shielding her from harm.

"I hate this place. I hate what I heard. I hate what I am now seeing. Realizing. Second guessing. I hate this land. Do you think I will be happy after what you made me do!? Do you think I WOULD JUST IGNORE WHAT I HEARD!? GOD BE DAMNED! FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU!" her voiced roared.

As if awakening a dragon.

"No!" Weiss shook her head side to side, hiccupping last of her sleep as the princess waits for her, so patiently quiet. "Please don't hate them. Please."

What. Her princess is baffled, coming from someone who suffers at the hands of the people she met. Don't Weiss want revenge? Don't she want to leave this place behind!?

Mordred's piercing glare reflects her mute inquiry, trying to see the answer from muddled eyes working its self to be clear of sleep.

"I didn't tell you so you could change what you think, but I did tell you because I trust you wouldn't change." the fairy holds her shoulder, pleading for the people. "The king, your father- he came here to kill, to destroy for you. But he saw the people, saw their state and he thought of what you'll do. I asked him why, why did he let them lived? 'Love them. Don't let them astray.' he said. 'Mordred would be proud', he said."

Mordred sobbed and hiccups at her father's words. It is now Weiss' turn to dry her tears, pleading for the place.

"So Mordred, don't let hate consume you. Don't let your father's love to you gone to waste. Look at the good of people, you stupid. Because we see the hope in you. They need you Mordred, more than I need you."

"… I promised…" she hissed in her breathe. "… I promise. I won't forgive them. I can't."

"You can forgive, Mordred. I have forgiven them. You can forgive, but you can never forget."

Dearest Mother,

Mother, Weiss have told me of her fears. I don't know mother. Why… why didn't I see this sooner? Why didn't I know she was from the placed I was hoping to be knighted. A place where she was tortured mother. A place as disgusting as its people. I.. I don't know what to do. It hurts mother. Why does it hurts me so? When she was telling me her story mother, I can feel her pain. I.. It's so heavy I can't understand how she could keep it for so long. I want to take her pain mother, because it hurts just to hear it, but to experience it? Mother I… it hurts so so much. Why is this mother? My chest feels like it was stack with stones. I can't breathe. I can't sleep when I know Weiss is in so much pain. I want to protect her so much I… Mama it hurts soooo much. I kissed her mama, because I don't know my hug feels so empty back then. She cried so much Mama, I cried with her. I don't want to feel that pain anymore Mama. I hate Weiss feels that pain too.

Mama, please come to me. Mama, please… I don't know what to do! Mama… mama I promised her Mama I won't let her go. Why is it Mama? I was just doing something the Lord ordered me to and then they gave me this tasked and now owned the place. But that's it Mama, I heard the truth from Weiss. How this place became so scary. I yelled at the people here, I'm angry. So so angry. Why did they do that! Why did they hurt Weiss!? They hurt her Mama, they're bad! So bad! Why didn't they help Weiss!? Why didn't they help my friend!? She told me they turned their backs, Mama! Tell me, how could they do that to a child!? Mama, please tell Dada I want to go home. Weiss isn't safe here. I do not like it here. Mama I want to go home. Please tell Miss Esmeralda I promised I will protect Weiss so she wouldn't be scared. Mama, please let Dada return us home. I hate it here. I hate that Dada named it to honor me. Where is their honor? Where did it go wrong? Why are they like this? 'More dread' it is, such a fitting name for such a pity child of yours mama. Is that it? Is Dada trying to kill me here? Please come mama. I hated this. I hate here.I hate the people here.

But….. Weiss make me promise to forgive them Mama. She wanted me to save them. Wanted me to love them like how Dada love me. I.. I can't, I don't… I don't know if I can. I need you so much mama, please make it better. Weiss wants me to continue my dream and I promise I will not change. But it's hard. Is this it mama? When they told me I'm a naïve little fool? Why am I now seeing this mama? Why… I don't understand. But I promised Mama, I promise. What will I follow; my promise or my anger?

I never felt so angry in my short life Mama,

It burns.

Mordred

PREVIEW:

"I will try…" Mordred sniffs, laughing for the first time in ages.

"Weiss is having a paper with her. Weiss will give you it so you could write to queen mother. Isn't Weiss so helpful?"

"Dinadan, what on earth happen to you?"

"Blame Weiss."

"Mordred be doing nasty. Mordred be sticking you with a pointy end."

"Lady Weiss?"

"Just…. Just ignore her, Ser Ohbertus."

"Stop brooding and let's dance, princess." Ohbertus consoled, patiently smiling at the morose blonde, palms outstretch, poised and honest. "Let's dance with our blades."

"I don't have a blade."

"Altria, I swear on my grave if you do not release her at once I will castrate you. Even if you're a woman."

"Wait…. Dada's a woman?"