Before Evelyn turned seven years old, it had not once in her short life occured to her that someone would, could want anything bad for her or her family. But on the dawn of her seventh birthday, when she was forced to watch her father being executed for practicing sorcery, holding her mother's and her brother's hands, she began to realise how the world she lived in worked; power was the biggest weapon of all, the biggest responsibility one could have, and that she would never put herself in such a situation where she would be responsible for someone else's fate. And when they were then banished from the city for the rest of their lives, she made the decision never to devote herself to another person, another being, for that would put her exactly in this situation.

But she demanded answers. After 17 years of exile, she was ready to find out what her father had meant with his last words before entering the company of the dead. They had been very simple, and clear, although the intentions of her father were left unknown to her:

"When you come back here after your mother's murder, find Gaius. He will be the person to lead you to your destiny."

So there she was, gazing at the white castle from a distant hill, and sighed. Not of relief, but rather of the pain of the hazy memories she had of her former home, the home she had shared with her family. The family that was now shattered. Shredded in pieces.

Distant laughter. Slowly moving shapes. Gwaine felt like he was perceiving the world around him from underwater. Only it was much slower, and the echo of people's voices sent sharp aches through his brain. He reached for his glass again, with slight problems with his accuracy, only to find out it was empty. He placed it back on the table, maybe a bit too hard, for a loud bang entered his hazy brain. Only then did he hear the calm words, spoken slowly right next to him:

"I think that's enough for today, sir Gwaine. Let's go."

Gwaine turned his head to his right, only to see a dark-haired shape of a man standing right next to him, waving a hand in front of his view to wake him up. He heard a smack, and then felt a sharp slap on his cheek. That was enough to clear his mind slightly, so he could recognise the figure now staring down at him.

"That is a lovely way to greet a friend, sir Lancelot. Now if you could excuse me, I have a lady under my target –"

"She has surely seen enough never to want anything to do with you. "

Gwaine sighed and slowly stood up, shaking his head.

"You seriously slap like the ladies do, Lancelot. One more thing on the list of what you should learn from me."

"Only you would know how the ladies slap. I myself have never experienced that."

A cheeky grin appeared on the face of Gwaine then, and he stood up, quite balanced considering the state he was in after spending the whole afternoon in the tavern. It was now Lancelot's turn to sigh, but he couldn't help but smile aswell. It wasn't the first time he had to be the one to gather his fellow knight from the tavern.

Although it hadn't been long ago since the two of them had first met, they had gotten along easily from the beginning. When other people would question them about their relationship, they would often shrug their shoulders and reply with something connected with sparring and the need of a good enough partner to train with in order to improve their skills. But that wasn't nearly all with their companionship, and although they, especially Gwaine wouldn't admit it or ever even talk about it outloud, these two men, who were indeed almost like each other's opposite, contrary, the missing brother, enjoyed each other's company very much most of the time.

Slowly making their way to the door and thus outside the crowded tavern, Gwaine started feeling his drunkness again and leaned against the door frame for support. He supported his head against the frame aswell and let his gaze wander towards the gate. It was then that he first saw her.

She was ordinary, but not at all ordinary. Her wavy, blonde hair was fuzzed around her slim, heart-shaped face by the sudden gust of wind, that caused her gray hood to fall off, revealing large, strikingly blue eyes, framed by dark lashes. Her perfectly shaped lips had a tiny, pleased smile on them as she took in the view, and her high cheekbones were blushed in the faint colour of pink. Under her gray cloak she wore a simple dress the colour of the darkest blue, and over her shoulder she had slung a brown bag. And surprisingly, tied on the right side of her brown belt that held her dress together was a simple sword.

How Gwaine was able to perceive all this in the state he was in is a mystery, but his mouth fell slightly open as he straightened his posture at once. Lancelot, now curious of the change in his friend's target of interest followed his gaze all the way to the young woman now standing right after the gate, looking around. He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to mock Gwaine, only to find him already on his way towards the woman. He shook his dark-haired head, and followed.

"Sir Gwaine, in your service, m'lady. How can I help thee?" He bowed remotely, careful not to fall down.

The woman looked at him, and chuckled darkly. "Out of us too, you're the one in need of some help, honourable knight." But she couldn't help but notice the way his dark brown, fairly long curls fraimed his face, how the slightly untrimmed facial hair covered his defined jawline. And definitely the way his chocolate brown eyes looked at her.

"At least brigthen my day with your name, princess." Gwaine answered politely, reaching for her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. It was then that Lancelot reached the two of them, and smiled sheepishly at the woman.

"I apologise for anything my fellow might have said or done to insult you. But you can't really blame him if you knew how much he drank in the tavern today, m'lady."

She freed her hand of Gwaine's still desperate grasp and smiled politely at Lancelot as she moved away from them, towards the city. "No harm done, sir."

"Oh come on, at least tell me your name!" Gwaine shouted after her, raising his arms in the manner of desperation. But the woman just smiled over her shoulder, and walked forward, until she reached the Inn.