Hi!
I'm so sorry for the long wait on this next chapter, life has been hectic recently, and is only going to get more hectic. For this reason, I have decided to put posting for this story on hiatus until next year, since I want to focus on school for the next couple of weeks.
I will also be travelling for a few months, which is also why I want to place this on a few months hiatus, since I won't be able to post anything during that time.

However, posting should resume sometime late January/early February next year, so stay tuned!

Rayna collapsed, breath coming out in short gasps. She didn't think that she had ever run that fast before. What the hell? What the actual hell?

Up until about ten minutes ago, she had thought that the Dædscúa were just a myth, a bedtime story told to kids to keep them in line. Nothing more, nothing less.

Taking stock of her surroundings, it hit her.

"Where's my uncle?"

The knights of Camelot and their king stopped, and Rayna took that opportunity to see who else was missing.

Her uncle, as well as the five knights that he had brought as entourage, and King Arthur's manservant, who had been brought along for no apparent reason.

"Whatever happened, Princess Rayna, you can have my assurances that Prince Balinor will be found," the diplomatic answer is just something that she expects from King Arthur.

But that didn't account for the fact that her uncle was out in the forest, quite possibly alone, with some of the best magical assassins that this world had seen. Not that King Arthur knew that, nor would he ever know. If the assassins were truly after her uncle (and he was the only person she could think of within Camelot at the moment who had magic, unless of course the dragon's words about Emrys rang true… no, that wasn't possible), then the only thing that they would find would be his body, cast off into a ditch, no sign of how he died or who assassinated him.

She started to pace, her body tensed up, the knights and king settled into a circle, discussing the divvying up of the search party. Ugh. Why couldn't they just make up their minds? It wouldn't matter, by the time they found Uncle Balinor, he would be dead.

No.

She was not going to think like that. Maybe Emrys had saved him. Maybe this was what that accursed dragon had been referring to?

But something in her gut told her that this was just the beginning. That something bigger was afoot, she just had to find it. Maybe she had to find Emrys?

That was if the dragon had even been telling her the truth. They were known for being notorious creatures after all.

She took a shaky breath. There was nothing she could do. And Rayna hated that, hated the sitting around and waiting for answers. It was what she had done for most of her life. Not being the son her father had always wanted, and the consequent heir to the throne, well she had been a constant reminder to her father what she was not, and what she was. Which was the first in a small line of failures. The eldest of three girls. The first of many tries on her father and mother's part to produce the 'real' heir to the throne.

The only person who had accepted her had been her uncle, and to lose him now? Rayna didn't know what she would do. He (and the Barion siblings) had been the light in her life. The people who had taken care of her, and her younger sisters, who had taught them how to read and write, taught them etiquette and how to fight.

If Rayna's father died, she knew that she wouldn't feel much for the man, but now that she was faced with the high possibility of her uncle's death? She didn't think that she could go back there. Not to that dreary place, where even in Summer the stone walls were cold. Where there was no distinct chatter of servants filling the hallway, or the gentle laughter or the warm space which she knew was always open in her uncle's office when she had been having a particularly rough day.

Rayna would return to nothing. She would become nothing once more.

It wasn't fair. Every person she had ever spoken to had always said that she was lucky, lucky to be born a princess. But they didn't know the half of it. They didn't see that behind the facade of the happy family which her father was adamant they portray to the kingdom that there was a scared and lonely girl, abandoned by her father and mother for not being a boy. She would never be good enough in their eyes.

Tears spilled out through her eyes, and she hastened to remove them, lest one of the knights or King Arthur saw. It would not do her kingdom well if she was not seen as a strong heir. She would have to remain strong, for her people, for her kingd-

"Merlin!"

The relieved shout broke her out of her reverie, head whipping up, barely seeing the faces, as she counted who had returned among the party.

Merlin. The King's manservant.

The Barion siblings, looking a little worse for wear, but all present.

Her uncle. Her uncle who was alive and well.

He caught her eye as she looked up, cocking his eyebrow.

She nodded. She was alright. Everything was going to be fine.

But one question niggled at the back of her mind.

If the Dædscúa hadn't gone after her uncle, then who were they after?

Rowan slumped against the nearest tree, hands shaking. Join the Knights of Deaestidria they said. It would be a fun adventure, they said.

Yes, Rowan thought to himself. Definitely his definition of 'fun adventure', being chased by a scary children's story.

Taking deep breaths, he tightened his grip on his sword, taking stock of his situation. He must have lost the others a while back, in the mad dash to get away from the fight, a tactical retreat. And now? Well, now he was lost in the forest, lost in the forest of a place he didn't know that well, with a group of people he had believed to be nothing more than a scary legend coming after someone within their group.

But that begged the next question. Who? Who were they after? Rowan himself had very minimal magic, next to nothing almost. Bartel certainly didn't have magic, and Rowan was pretty sure that none of Arthur's entourage would have magic. They would have to be dumb, crazy, or both to even think about working in the Pendragon's court. Prince Balinor was the only one who he could think of, apart from the princess who had magic, and yet… the Dædscúa hadn't gone for either of them. And in the fight there had been plenty of opportunities.

So if the Dædscúa weren't there for anybody, what were they doing? In Camelot of all places?

Snap!

Rowan stiffened, hand immediately clenching to his side, hand resting on the pommel of his sword, breath frozen on his lips.

He shifted his cape around him, watching the runes flare slightly, before settling down, allowing his mind to become one with the surrounding environment. Rowan was suddenly infinitely grateful that he had asked the mages to fill the runes up with magic again.

Tension filled the air as he strained his ears trying to hear where the noises were coming from.

Rowan's heart seemed to almost be beating out of his chest, his palms growing sweaty with every second, his breathing returning in full force as he gulped for ai-

Bartel stepped out, eyes glancing around, and Rowan almost called out.

Almost.

The man seemed to appear from the shadows, dressed in blacks and greens, a silver swirl adorning his left-

Dædscúa.

That man was Dædscúa.

Rowan gulped, hands fisting through his cloak. Mind spinning in circles.

"Well?" Bartel growled, eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"It is him," the Dædscúa man responded, voice surprisingly soft and smooth for how tall he was.

Him? Who was him? Rowan suppressed a shiver. Whoever this person was, Rowan was only happy that it wasn't him. But what was Bartel doing with the Dædscúa? Why was he talking with them?

"Are you sure? You know what the boss is like wh-"

"We are sure. It took some time to get past his defences, but it is him."

Bartel growled, "Fine. Ready the soldiers, Camelot won't know what hit them."

The Dædscúa disappeared back into the shadows, and as he did so, Bartel spat on the ground, muttering under his breath as he marched back the way he had come.

Rowan collapsed onto the forest floor, body shaking as he took in a few deep calming breaths, his thoughts running through his head faster than a horse could gallop.

Why was Bartel working with the Dædscúa? What were they doing here? Did Prince Balinor know about this? And who was this mysterious person, who the Dædscúa were looking for? Why were they attacking Camelot? Who was this boss?

Stumbling to his feet, Rowan started to move, one foot in front of the other, his mind whirling with endless possibilities.

But there was one thing he was sure of.

He needed to let someone know.