A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to get out a chapter. Please enjoy. I hope the next few chapters will be worth the wait as I finish up the Merlin/Morgana scenes. It will just take little time, just bear with me, as my hands are suffering from so much writing. and I'm sorry for spelling and grammar errors.

Oh, and I'm curious to know what your favorite chapters are. Please review and let me know!

Chapter 36

A Bond of Beasts

Theron the Giant searched for Mordred. He followed the sorcerers scent like a blood hound. The scrawny little whelp had crawled under Theron skin and settled somewhere near his frozen heart some years ago, and never left. Like a rash he couldn't get rid of. Theron was a hardened assassin. A creature bred and trained to kill. Not quite human and not quite beast, he was a giant among men. An immortal among mortals. A magical creature. A hybrid. An heir of two lost race's and civilization's. A son of none, and all. Both Druid and Giant.

Theron didn't even want to imagine how he came into being, but he knew it had nothing to do with the conventional means of conception and everything to do with magic and creation. A dangerous magic to be meddle in. The ancient dark arts has claimed many souls, and will continue to do so long after the world has destroys itself. Theron was one of hundreds, now he is one of the last. Not many remain after the Witching Hour. After it ended the Giants and Druids who helped create the hybrids were completely wiped out. Only ten were left to carry on the new race.

However, a High Priestesses like Morgana, only centuries before her, found a way to entrap his species. A bond of beasts. Morgana found this lost magical art and now Theron was irrevocably trapped. As long as he followed orders he remained free and whole. Break his oath, or refuse an command and he was liable to suddenly explode in a burst of blood, guts and bone, or just drop dead of a magical aneurism. The speculation on what would happen if you broke your oath was long and vast and he would not be testing the waters.

Theron was conditioned for the life Morgana provided. Thrived in it even. He was at home with a guillotine hanging over his neck. It was an assassins nature to seek out the darkness and Morgana's' darkness drew him like a moth to a flame ready to either die or obey. Only the new addition to the bond, Emrys, was not.

Theron felt the bond forming between Emrys and Morgana. It was the same as the Bond of Beasts, however, it was different in the way it was woven together. The bond between Morgana and Theron was a mutual understanding, the kill spell a precaution, where as, the bond with Emrys was a forced bonding that would ultimately strip Emrys of himself. Theron could feel everything Morgana does. It was how he was supposed to keep her from harm. If her pain, or fear reached a frightening height Theron or one of his other four bonded brothers would come to her aid. But it also irritated him to never ending heights. To feel her emotions was not something he enjoyed. He was just lucky that his life was not tied to hers as Emrys' will be.

Theron grit his teeth and shoved past more branches following Mordreds trail. Theron hated this. He want a retrieval dog, he was a fighter, a rabid beast that thrived in times of war and withered in times of peace. He was a troubled and angry lad but he could become a great man. That was until Theron noticed something change in the young lad. Mordred seemed to adopt some of Morgana's darkness. He didn't particularly care, but it intrigued Theron to no end. The way the Witch Morgana could influence even the strongest of wills with only a few well spoken words or a flash of that wicked smile. She was a devil and her demons worshiped her.

Theron among them, until he started to pay more attention to Morgana and her plans. Question her orders. She was straying from the path she had originally planned. No longer was it win the crown and free her kind. It was take the throne and destroy all that refuse her. He felt weird about mindlessly obeying a tyrant. He had just escaped one of the worse when he had pledged himself to Morgana but he started to understand how his own nature betrayed him into the hands of a mad woman. And now he was trapped until she either killed him, he killed himself, or she miraculously expired.

Theron walked along the icy path, trampling through small bushes and over tree roots. Within the roots were small pockets of snow covered mud puddles that Theron went out of his way to ovoid. It was cold enough. He didn't need his boots any more soaked than they were. He would like very much to keep all his toes. If Mordred was out here the kid must be freezing his balls off, Theron knew he was, even with his furs and rather odd biology. Why it even crossed his mind what Mordred would be feeling was beyond him. But the more Theron studied himself the more he was able to identify the unidentifiable. Theron felt oddly protective over Mordred.

As if he could protect him from Morgana and her stupidity, Theron scoffed to himself. As if I could save anyone. He knew what a joke that thought was. He couldn't keep Mordred safe. He couldn't keep anyone safe. It was a miracle he had been Morgana alive as long as he has. A feat he knew to be near impossible. He's a slayer. Not a savior. He knew that. And anyone who got too close to him died. Either by his hand, his friends, or his enemies. It didn't matter. Anyone who was around him, or knew of him eventually died.

Theron stomped through the slush and dirt. He shoved a branch out of his way with a snap, breaking the poor tree branch. He was growing more and more aggravated as he searched for Mordred with no success. Morgana had ordered Theron to bring him back hours ago. He felt her ire through the bond. It spurred his own choler out of control. He didn't know what Morgana had planned for the lad, but he knew her darkness well, and her evil was like nothing he had felt in an extremely long time. It was alluring, controlling and all consuming. He felt like spiders were crawling up his back and up his neck. The feeling becoming all-consuming. His anger getting the better of him him spun around and smashed his fist into a large oak tree. Again and again and again. He didn't sto until he felt skin split and the warmth of his blood.

Theron had not felt such darkness since he came into being some centuries ago. Around the time when Giants lived, dragons were abundant, and High Priestesses were something to be revered, not feared. He didn't know how he could have missed it. He felt like a film was slowly bing cleaned from his sight and he was able to truly see Morgana for what she was. It was unnerving. Emrys' presence has shaken the world up and thrown her into chaos. Theron paused. He stretched his fingers out, opening and closing his fist, loosening his tightened flesh. The blood was already drying. His wound sealing over. Soon the marks on his knuckles vanished all together. He shook his hand out and dropped it back be his side.

Theron tilted his head and listened to his surroundings. He glanced up a the setting sun, at the canopy and trees surrounding him. The wind shifted and with it came a cold stinging wind. It burned his silver eyes and whipped his long hair into his face, rattling the crystals and precious stones woven through out his dark mane. Theron inhaled, slowly filling his lungs with the crisp scent of winter. He sorted through the different scents. The sharp smell of wet earth and rotten vegetation, the smell of wood smoke and ice. It all mixed together to create a winter aroma that enticed and seduced the mind into thinking life could have a happy ending.

Theron exhaled. White clouds raced from his lips as the heat of his breath mixed with the frigged air.

Not finding the scent he was searching for, Theron took in another deep breath. He needed to find Mordred scent before another strong gust of wind spirited it away. But instead of a the faint scent of leather and oil he had been following, the wind assaulted his senses with the scent of blood. Lots and lots of blood. Theron, recognizing the smell. He kicked up the pace, knowing, and fearing, what he would find.

Mordred was drowning. He was just lying there unable to move, too numb to realize he was freezing and too tired to care. Besides, he couldn't remember how to move, or how to get up, even if he wanted to. There was a hallow feeling in his chest, a black hole, that kept growing, it consumed. It sucked away his energy. Devouring his life. His magic. Everything he was. And he was alone. Not that he was very surprised, Mordred through distantly. He was a fuck.

Mordred stared up at the canopy. The muted sun peeked down between its branches, highlighting each leaf . It turned the canopy a Kaleidoscope of greens that shifted as the sun began to set. Mordred struggled for air. Each rattling breath had him choking on hot hot metallic liquid. He felt it slowly filling his lungs, spilling out to his abdomen. The blood was bitter and tasted like rusted copper tainted by the spell Ranoue hit him with.

Ranoue.

Mordred was almost proud of him. A reluctant kind of pride. Now he knew his big brother had it in him to make those messy decisions. He was now content in believing Ranoue could kill Merlin. Kill Emrys. Mordred knew he didn't have long. He knew that from the way he no longer felt the world around him. His hearing was muffled, and his stomach burned uncomfortably. Mordred couldn't muster up enough of anything to care about what that could mean. He suspected though, and he was content knowing he was dying. A bit sad, but complacent. He knew he would soon be reacquainted with Kara and his death will have been worth something, at least to himself, and he could leave this world in chaos.

Theron followed the scent of blood. It led him to a small clearing surrounded by dozens of large trees. Of to the side of the small clearing was an unmoving body. Red stained the snow beneath and around it in a gruesome display of carnage. The blood was starting to smell old and stale. Dead. He steeled himself and switched off all feeling. The assassin in him took over. He approached the body stiffly.

"Damn it," Theron grit past clenched jaw. He knelt down and assessed Mordred with a critical eyes. Removing himself emotionally. Mordred's chest rose and fell in tiny infinitesimal flutters signaling that the boy still lived, if only just momentarily.

Gently, Theron started to examine the wound that fed the snow so much blood. It was a nasty one. He probed the chard flesh around it. The fabric of Mordreds' shirt had melted away displaying his blackened flesh across his ribs. The wounded flesh was split and oozed clear puss and blood. It was an ugly sight, but Theron has seen worse, and known people to have survived worse.

Mordred moaned. A sharp pain in his side jolted him back to consciousness. He tried to move away from what ever caused it but a gentle grip stopped his squirming.

"Easy there kid, it me." Theron reassured. "It's Theron."

Mordred tensed. His eyes searched blindly for him but couldn't see anything but darkness. He started to panic. Suddenly, the giant came into view. He knelt over Mordred, his face hovering above him, watching him closely. His strange silver eyes calmed Mordred immediately. He relaxed. He looked up at Theron. Mordreds mouth worked wordlessly. He couldn't speak past the blood flooding his throat, lungs and chest.

"Shh. Don't speak." Theron hissed. Theron closed his eyes and put his hands over Mordreds wound.

Mordred tried to shake his head, tried to convey some how that he didn't want Theron to heal him. That it wouldn't work. The spell Ranoue had used was irreversible. Silently Mordred watched paralyzed as Theron work his own special kind of magic, his dread only growing. He just wanted to be left in peace.

Theron willed Mordreds blood back into his body, and his skin to repair its self. Releasing his strange power of will, Theron opened his eyes and sat back on his heel to check his work. Therons brows drew together. Strange. The wounds stopped bleeding but nothing else happened. With a curse, Theron swooped down and shoved his arms underneath Mordred as gently as he could and lifted.

"Let's get you back to Lady Morgana." Theron said gruffly.

Mordred tried to shake his head 'no', but it was more of a tilting to the side as Theron stood with him in his arms.

Leave me here, Mordred projected into Therons mind. He didn't think he would hear him, but surprise of all surprises, Theron heard him and answered back.

Theron looked down at Mordred with a raise brow. No, Theron challenged.

I'm dead already. Mordred said weakly. Please, just leave me.

What? Theron snorted. To die there alone? Theron paused, waiting for an answer. Theron flitted through the trees towards their camp taking care not to jostle Mordred and cause any further damage. Theron moved quicker than most men in their prime and even quicker still thanks again to his strange biology, allowing him to make it to the camp in no time at all.

Yes, Mordred pleaded.

No man deserves that. Theron continued firmly, ending that conversation.

If you take me back alive, she is only going to kill me, let me die in peace. Mordred stayed silent after that. They both knew he was going to die. It wasn't a if, it was a when, and Theron couldn't leave him alone in the dark to die thanks to his faulty shut off switch for his emotions. He was becoming a horrible assassin. Even the death of the young druid boy had his skin crawling. What was wrong with him?

Its strange. It was as if the moment Therons' blade pierced flesh and cleaved the Druids' head from his shoulders it was as if the death of this young sorcerer, Darrin, unleashed a curse of compunction. He felt compelled to protect. To save, not kill. To defend, not attack. He shouldn't care about this kid. He should not even be helping him. He should just report his finding to Morgana and that's that. But he couldn't set Mordred down. He wouldn't let him die alone.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" He murmured to himself as he glanced down at Mordred, now unconscious, in his arms. Theron contemplated his answer as he neared the border of Morgana's bivouac. It was too late to leave him now. Theron sighed and marched into camp. The witches, sorcerers and mercenaries sneered at him, tossing scathing looks. It was nothing he hasn't dealt with before because of his origins. He ignored everything, even the ugly words directed at him. The questions and the stares of accusation went unnoticed. He wasn't liked very much among Morgana's army due to his hybrid nature, and waltzing through a camp filled with magic users with a dying Sorcerer in his arms did not better his odds.

With his spine straight and head held high he mad his way to Morgana's tent neglecting to acknowledge a single accusatory comment or hostile gaze. This was nothing he hasn't encountered before, and he has been treated far worse for far, far less.