Mordred leaned against his desk and popped open the lid of the small box in his long-fingered hand. It was covered in a rich blue leather, the corners capped in gold; it looked expensive without being gaudy. The precious stones set into the ring inside caught the sunlight streaming in through the long window on his left and glinted. He felt Angmar's mind shift greedily, drowning out the waves of jealousy he had been allowing to seethe for months. He knew what his fairy planned to do, and he had no desire to share him. Satisfied, Mordred shut the box again with a snap and applied a censuring pressure to the dragon's mind. This one is not for you. Angmar was, by any stretch of the imagination, extraordinarily rich. Mordred allowed him to keep most of the treasure he found so he could sleep on his ever-growing hoard in contentment. Occasionally Mordred would make a withdrawl, and sometimes he'd give his dragon a gift. Angmar kept the gifts from his master in a dedicated pile, and slept with his head rested on them; always on the look-out for thieves.

Placing the box in the pocket of his trousers Mordred crossed to his mirror. His court finery was, as ever, beautiful in its understatement, his rank evident in nothing more flamboyant than the silver embroidery running around the hems of his tunic and the ornate buckles of his boots. He wore only one ring, a dragon biting its own tail, and a pendant around his neck. It had been a gift from his mother on his discovery. A little crumb of sentimentality on display for the world to see.

Satisfied with his appearance he made his way to the nearest staircase and descended the steps to the floor below. He wandered the now-familiar route along the corridor to Gaiane's room. He paused once to exchange words with a guard Captain he'd worked with the evening before in an attempt to improve security. Finally he came to a stop in front of his lady's door and knocked; three sharp well-placed raps.


Mordred
_{the darkness will rise from the deep}