Silvestre Pendragon

Fury, Jealousy and Secrets Unleashed

Deserted, Camelot was frozen in silence and ice. The raven had arrived, spreading her menacing wings and engulfing the city in an intimidating darkness. After last nights events, the story of Noirsk's note had creeped through the town in hushed murmurs; children were kept in doors and guards patrolled the streets: waiting and watchful.

In the war room the King and his Knights discussed their plans and debated the meaning of the blood stained letter. The King had ordered that Silvestre not be told anything, did he not trust her? Or did he want to protect her? Either way, Silvestre was furious. The knights who had brought her up and cared for her, now simply passed with merely a nod, frightened that if they opened their mouths to say hello, secrets and information would slip from their tongs. Even Hydra was avoiding Silvestre, hastily changing direction if she saw the princess. However, Silvestre's brother had not pulled out any surprises and was as spiteful as ever; Prince Albert was extremely thrilled to see his sister ignored and seemed to flourish with every confused frown.

"Brilliant." Silvestre hissed under her breath. The chilly air attempted to attack at Silvestre's skin but sizzling flames flickered around her fingers, fighting away her opponent. Patiently, she waited at the castle gates, eager to see Milo, there was something very important she needed to tell him. The faint orange blur of the sun, that barely leaked through the wall of fog, had risen to its peak: noon. She could feel the flames of her palms becoming restless, agitated and angry. With no sign of Milo, Silvestre strode back into the castle, there it was still quiet with only the soft patters of servants footsteps. The stone castle seemed bleached with worry and Silvestre's flames were becoming harder and harder to control...

"Miss Silvestre, are you okay?" squeaked a voice. Little Liesel stood, holding a basket of fresh linen, so distracted by the whirling thoughts of Noirsk, Silvestre hadn't noticed the little girl.

"Yes, I'm fine, Leisel." Silvestre said, "Do you know where Milo is? He didn't meet me by the castle gates this morning."

Together they walked through the maze of corridors, poor Leisel practically jogging to keep up with Silvestre's strides,

"I saw him earlier this morning." Liesel puffed " I think he was heading into the woods with the pretty girl."

Silvestre stopped. "What?" she demanded.

" The blonde girl, in the white dress. She was very pretty. Not from Camelot I don't think." Silvestre's veins boiled not with anger but with a new feeling, her nails clawed at her palms,

"Something wrong Miss? Anything I can do?" asked Liesel, so innocent and unaware.

"Just leave me alone! Everybody else is! " Silvestre snapped, her fuming words echoing through the silent stone castle. She didn't bother to watch the little girl scuttle away, sobbing, instead she flew open the door of her room, cutting her hand through the air, causing the fireplace to erupt into a blazing inferno. The aggressive flames sent a wave of heat through the room, launching sharp daggers of fire up the chimney and illuminating the raging tears that streamed down Silvestre's cheeks. Like a wolf, her emotions growled, teeth bared. A wolf, Silvestre was wild and fierce.

Slumping into her armchair, Silvestre rested her head in her hands, she instantly regretted shouting at Liesel. Multiple thoughts stabbed at her brain as the roaring fire settled into softer flames, vigorously she wiped away her tears. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Noirsk. Milo. Pretty girl. Noirsk. Secret. King. Pretty girl. Milo. Secret. Pretty girl. Milo. Pretty girl.

Constant, repetitive thoughts.

Suddenly, Silvestre heard a timid cough and realised she wasn't alone. Evelyn was standing, pale faced and wide-eyed...