The mile went on forever, the minutes turned to days
Could I have been misguided by the mystic's ways?
The moment lasts forever, at least it does for me
Caught between what happened and what could never be...

'The Road to Mandalay' by Blackmore's Night

"Don't even think about it." She growled. She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling from the close call of nearly losing her brother.

"Think about what?" Gwaine asked innocently, as he sheathed his sword and retrieved the fallen key.

"...Trying to find some way to chain me to the wall again - to keep me out of the way. I can see it in your face," she accused him. Brown eyes narrowed at her brother.

Gwaine shook his head and bit back a protest. He was reluctant to admit that the thought had crossed his mind, because of the creatures outside, but he had immediately dismissed it. "No. I'm not going to do that." He sighed, unlocking the shackles from her wrists. "I think I'm going to keep you in my sight from now on. So, you don't get into more trouble."

"I don't need a nanny!"

He took her face in his hands; mindful of the bruise on her cheek. She flinched unconsciously from the physical contact, although his touch was softer than she had ever known it to be.

"Hey," he whispered gently. "It's alright. I'm just here to rescue my favorite damsel in distress. We're going to get out of here; get you back to Camelot where you can relax and enjoy a life of luxury."

Clarissant blinked and met her brother's gaze. She drew strength from his unusually calm demeanor.

He had grown up since their last encounter. He no longer looked like a ruffian. Instead, he looked like a true warrior in his chainmail and red cape. She noticed that their mother's sash had been carefully wrapped around the scabbard of his castle-forged blade. Yet, the thing that caught her off guard the most was the fact that he was dead sober. "Were you really going to sacrifice yourself for me, or was that all just for show?" She asked, rubbing her wrists.

"If it came to it...yeah. Yeah, I was." He stepped back and held out his hand for her. "Really glad I didn't have to. But, the day is still young." Gwaine smiled and winked at her.

She started to take the outstretched limb and then recoiled. Gwaine quickly masked the look of hurt and sadness that passed behind his eyes as he watched her.

The whole baiting and bickering in front of Bran had been more for his sister's sake, than for the Prince of Corbenic. He had used it to rekindle the fire that had, at one time, burned so brightly in his sister's soul.

It had worked while they were in the heat of the moment and he was challenging her with his words. He felt a sense of consolation to know that if he had lost his head, she would eventually heal. He watched as the spirit was replaced once again by the conditioned fear that had been Clarissant's life for so long. His heart clenched.

"Please." His voice was filled with love for his twin. "Let me get you out of here."

Clarissant nodded mutely and placed her dirty, frail hand in his large, calloused one. He smiled in relief and began leading her gently toward the door.

She suddenly stopped and pulled from his grasp. "Wait!" Running back to the cot, she picked up a large leather bound tome, and hugged it tightly to her chest. "I can't leave this," she explained.

Gwaine bit his tongue. He knew they had to get out and he didn't want a book to slow them down. Yet, he couldn't deny her. She held it, as if it was the most precious thing in the world to her. If the book made her feel something other than fear, he would do everything in his power to make certain she kept it. "Fine, but stay behind me and if it comes to it – you drop that book and run. To the west first, until you reach the ruined castle. Then, northwest through the swamp to the bridge, got it?"

She nodded her understanding; reaching for his hand again, as he swept her down the hall and out of the room.

After a while, Gwaine had begun to curse at himself when he found that he was lost.

"If you had just turned left two corridors back, like I suggested…"

"Shut it!" He growled.

Clarissant held up a hand of protest. "I'm simply trying to say, I've been…"

Gwaine spun on her. "Say what? That I'm an idiot, who couldn't find his way out of a muslin bag?"

She stomped her foot and huffed, "That too! However, Bran took me on a tour of the castle when I was first brought here. Despite what you make think, I actually do pay attention to my surroundings."

"Why the bloody hell didn't you say so?" He looked at her with his mouth hanging open.

"I think, I did...after you missed the first turn," she drawled and rolled her eyes.

He grumbled under his breath and waved his hand. "Lead on."

Quicker than he could have imagined, they found themselves squinting against the bright sunlight of the courtyard.

Clarissant blinked and shielded her eyes. A rush of anxiety swept through her as she was suddenly shoved back through the doorway.

A flash of red obscured her vision, as her brother threw himself between her and a snapping wyvren. With quick reflexes, he dispatched the beast and then, pulled her along.

He sped down the outer stairs and into the courtyard where three men had their backs to a wall, fighting off more of the creatures.

Bodies of wyvren were piling around the men. Those that fell to the swords and hadn't died, were trampled by their own kin. Others, perhaps with slight more brains than their brethren, stood back and circled just out of reach.

Gwaine fought his way to his friends, dragging his sister behind him. They quickly put Clarissant in the center of them to protect her. With a quick glance, Gwaine noticed that Bran was fighting with Arthur and Percival. Merlin was nowhere in sight.

"Where the hell have you been?" Arthur gritted out, striking at the closest creatures.

"He refused to stop to ask for directions." Clare cut in, before her brother could respond.

The king spared her a glanced, and then shot Gwaine a smile. "She's cheeky! I like her already."

"Shove off, Princess. Where's Merlin?"

"He saw Morgause and took off after her, down the passageway over there. We were blocked by the beasts from following." Percival told him, motioning off to their right.

"That leads down into the dungeons," Bran stated.

"What the hell was he thinking?"

"He's an idiot. He doesn't stop to think if someone he cares about is in trouble, kind of like a certain knight I know!" Arthur yelled, as the creatures pressed forward again.

The men were beginning to show signs of fatigue. Bran's sword had been a welcome addition, but even with his skill, it was a tough fight.

When he had arrived outside moments before, he had found the two men trying to fight through the creatures, and quickly joined the melee.

Arthur had spun around, ready to fight him, until Bran had rapidly explained that everyone still had their heads and Gwaine would find his way out shortly. For the time being, Arthur decided not to argue. It was difficult enough fighting the wyvren, he couldn't worry about Bran as well.

The flash of red cloth in the door, eased his mind and spurred his momentum.

Gwaine's eyes were wide, but he didn't dare look at the others. "What do you mean?"

"He thinks that Morgause somehow captured the Red Dragon." Percival told him. "That is who he actually meant when he said 'she's here.'" He cast an apologetic smile at Clarissant.

She felt a pang of embarrassment at her current state, even though she was confused by his words. "It's alright," she muttered and returned his smile, shyly.

"Do you think the witch also has the Cauldron thing?" Gwaine wondered aloud, as the creatures backed off. With another sword beating against them, they retreated to the walls and the parapets. It gave the four men a chance to catch their breath.

"What cauldron?" Bran asked.

"It's said to have mystical healing properties. We came here to find it so Merlin could work his magic and heal Sir Leon. Helping Princess Gwaine," Arthur beamed as his knight scowled, "...was an added bonus."

Bran shook his head. Knowledge of exactly what they sought came to the forefront of his mind. "It's not here," he informed them.

Arthur's eyes shot open in disbelief. Calmly as he could, he asked, "What do you mean, 'it's not here'? We're fighting wyvren and a sorceress who can control them. One who has also managed to capture an ancient red dragon...all to find out what we are looking for is not even here? Incredible! Why did we even make this journey?!"

"Are you saying you wouldn't have come at all? What about my sister?" Gwaine spat out.

"That is not what I said, Gwaine!"

"Well, you certainly implied it!" Gwaine and Arthur were standing toe to toe, and eye to eye.

"There were more important things to worry about. Your sister may not have even been brought here, except for the fact we were already coming to these lands. Did you think about that?"

"Your king is right. She would not have been a part of this. However, it appears that this scenario, for her at least, was better than the alternative hell she was living in." The ancient prince rolled his eyes at the childish behavior.

Percival was warily glancing between the progressing argument and the creatures eyeing them from the walls. He noticed as some of the wyvern turned their attention from the group and he saw a flash of torn skirts disappearing down the corridor Bran had pointed out.

"Sire," he said trying to get the king's attention. "SIRE! GWAINE!" He roared and they paused, turning towards the large knight. "I think your sister just went after Merlin."

"What the hell! Clare!" He yelled once he realized his sister wasn't in sight.

All four men made a dash to the doorway. The wyvrens screeched and gave chase. Percival managed to make it through, while the other three were once again cut off.

"Go! find them!" Gwaine shouted to his friend.

Clarissant's breath was shallow as she tip-toed into the dungeon passageways.

The previous night, while she had sat in her cell, she'd overheard Morgause taunting a new prisoner. Clarissant had been too scared to say or do anything, even after the witch had left.

She had heard the woman in the next cell whimpering and gasping in pain. A part of her had felt guilty for not trying to offer some sort of comfort.

While her brother and the king argued, she felt a sudden burst of courage, completely unlike herself. She wanted payback, not only for herself, but also for everyone else the witch had hurt. The creatures above were focused on the men, and she realized she was able to easily slip along the wall without notice.

She heard voices, shouting in archaic languages, from one of the larger rooms.

Carefully, she peeked around the corner. The center of the room was empty and around the edges were pillars lit with torches. Shadows danced against the carved, grotesque reliefs on the pillars and hid the spaces behind them in darkness.

A dark-haired man circled the room opposite Morgause. His eyes were locked on her, yet they seemed somehow clouded. The dagger in his hand, glinted in the torchlight.

Looking back, Clarissant realized this may not have been the wisest decision, as the man's eyes glowed and his other hand shot forward forcing Morgause back against the wall. Clarissant cringed and turned her head away.

Holding her breath, she carefully opened her eyes, almost not daring to look back at the two sorcerers. What she did see, however, made her breath catch in her throat.

An identical version of her captor - also the woman who had just been magically shoved against a wall - stood hidden in the shadows behind one of the pillars. She was smiling manically, while holding a round stone that pulsed with magic. Clarissant looked back at the other one, who was pushing herself off the floor and noticed a slight shimmer about her.

"Your magic cannot kill me. I am a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess. You stupid, arrogant man." The woman rising snarled.

Clarissant's eyes widened. The words spoken appeared to be out of sync with the woman's mouth. A glance back at the version of Morgause behind the pillar showed her speaking into the stone, and her eyes glowed with power.

"When I am done with you, I will find my sister and once again bind her to my side before taking my revenge on your precious king."

The man's face scowled with hatred at the mention of the woman's sister. "Perhaps not, but I know Carwenhau can." He said indicating his dagger. "This time I will find a way to make certain you do not rise again. You will never be able to sink your claws into Morgana while I live."

Clarissant's fingers ached as she gripped the book tighter to her chest. She could now see through the illusion that Morgause was casting, even if the man couldn't. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest and she knew she needed to do something.

Silently, she crept through the shadows. All of Morgause's concentration was on the stone. Clarissant could hear the shouting of spells and the air tingled with energy. She raised the book in her hands, as she neared the witch and brought it down across the back of the priestess' head.

Morgause's skull, struck by the tome, careened into the pillar and the stone went flying from her grip. It smashed upon impact with the stone floor in a brilliant blinding explosion that rocked the dungeon walls.

Aithusa darted in and out of the trees. She circled under the bridge and then flew high into the air, giggling and squealing with her newly found voice.

Grettir smiled and laughed at the childish antics.

He felt a cold shiver instantly run up his spine and a sense of deep, overwhelming grief overcame him.

Aithusa landed next to him, her joyous attitude suddenly dashed, as she felt it to.

"Why do I feel so sad?" She asked the dwarf.

Grettir smiled sadly at her. He knew what she felt and patted his lap.

Aithusa dragged herself over and placed her head, almost the same size as his torso, on the warlock's lap with a depressed sigh. Pearl-like, golden tears leaked from her pale blue eyes.

Grettir stroked her head and neck as she cried herself to sleep, not understanding where her sorrow came from. He waved his hand and the gameboard appeared in front of him.

He felt a tightness in his chest as he studied it.

The Red Dragon's last move was her queen. It left an empty path to her king. If Grettir had not castled, she would have succeeded in checking him the following move. He looked to his own pieces and drew a breath when he noticed her gamble. He was wrong when he thought he put her simply into check with his rook, but now he saw his own mistake.

Her king had nowhere to go. The ancient dragon had gambled with destiny in a bold move of win or die.

It was checkmate.

She blinked and squinted, attempting to clear her vision and stop the ringing in her ears. When her eyes focused, she had expected to see Morgause laid out in front of her. She was shocked when there was nothing but shards of crystal from the stone.

Clarissant heard the man's voice cry out in heart-breaking agony and the sound of a woman gasping through the ringing in her ears.

Moving around the pillar she felt her heart sink. The dark-haired man was holding the body of an elegant woman dressed in crimson. Long, red hair flowed out around her head and she gasped in painful, ragged breaths.

Cautiously, her eyes searched for any sign of Morgause, as Clarissant made her way over to them. The dagger protruded from the woman's chest. Blood flowed and left a dark stain that was nearly black on the red silk of her dress.

Bright red blood foamed out of the woman's mouth as she coughed feebly. The man took off his jacket and tried to use it to staunch the flow of life as it poured out of the woman. He cast spell after spell through his hands.

He was so lost in his attempts he didn't notice Clarissant's approach. He leaned down towards the woman's face, and she whispered into his ear. Her breath rattled with one last gasp, and all the tension in her body released.

"No!" He sobbed, vainly trying another spell. His hands arms and torso were coated with blood, but he didn't seem to notice.

Clarissant laid her hand on his comfortingly, not realizing that she would shock him.

He snapped back, his arm outstretched towards her frightfully.

"I'm sorry, so very sorry," she whispered as she stood; backing toward the door in fear. The sight of the pain and anger in his blue eyes too much for her to bear in her own fragile state. She was ready to bolt when someone grabbed her hair and yanked her head back painfully. Cold metal bit into her throat.

"What do we have here? A filthy, little girl who thinks she can play at being a hero. You will pay for what you have done, pet." Morgause's voice slithered across Clarissant's skin.