What now? Gwen sighs and gets up from the desk where she was currently reconciling Mordred’s checking account for him. He kidnaps me and suddenly I’m his housekeeper. Something is wrong with this boy.
“Yes?” she says, leaning on the doorway.
“I’ve got a sliver.”
“How on earth did you get a sliver?”
“This stupid table. It’s all… jagged.”
“Let me see,” she sighs, coming over and taking his hand in hers. “You know, you really are the worst kidnapper ever.”
“He hasn’t found you yet,” he reminds her.
“He will,” she assures him calmly. “I need some tweezers.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen,” he says.
She releases his hand and walks through the house. If it wasn’t a fortress, if I wasn’t trapped here, this would really be lovely. A little romantic getaway for Arthur and me, even. It’s beautiful here. Only problem is, I don’t know exactly where “here” is.
She returns a few minutes later, tweezers in hand. She holds her hand out for Mordred and he gives her his wounded palm.
He flinches and says “Ow” before she even touches him.
“Honestly, Mordred, I haven’t even touched you yet. Here,” she takes his hand and turns, holding his arm beneath hers, so his hand is sticking out in front of her from beneath her armpit, her body between them.
“I can’t see now!” he protests.
“That’s the point,” she says. She quickly removes the splinter from his hand and releases him.
“You didn’t do anything!”
“Look at your hand, genius.”
He does. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Do you need a bandage?” she asks rather condescendingly, as if she is talking to a child.
“No, I think I’ll be fine.”
“I’m almost done with your accounts. Why have you kidnapped me, anyway? You’ve got tons of money.”
“It’s not about money.”
“Of course not.”
“He always got everything he wanted.”
“Of course, the forgotten stepchild.”
“You’re mocking me.” His face is stony.
“I am not,” she says. “Remember, I came from nothing, too.”
“I know,” his voice is small.
“Then why?”
“You’re the only thing he really cares about. His money, his power, they don’t matter to him. He would hand them over without a thought if it meant having you back.”
“Is that what you want? His money, his empire?”
“I thought I did. Now, I’m not sure.”
“You can’t have me,” she says decisively, folding her hands over her chest.
He angles his head at her, almost as if the thought never occurred to him. “You’re not my type.”
“Mordred, call him. Tell him where we are.”
“No.”
“God, you’re just as stubborn as he is!”
“I’m nothing like him!”
“You’re exactly like him! No wonder you don’t get along!”
“You know what? I don’t want to listen to this anymore. Go finish balancing my checkbook.”
“Call Arthur. We won’t press charges.”
“I am not…” he trails off, looking up at the ceiling sharply. It is just then that Gwen hears the distinct sounds of helicopter blades.
Gwen runs to the window, and see the distinctive red and gold of the Pendragon Corporation’s company helicopter.
“Gwen! Gwen!”
What now? Gwen sighs and gets up from the desk where she was currently reconciling Mordred’s checking account for him. He kidnaps me and suddenly I’m his housekeeper. Something is wrong with this boy.
“Yes?” she says, leaning on the doorway.
“I’ve got a sliver.”
“How on earth did you get a sliver?”
“This stupid table. It’s all… jagged.”
“Let me see,” she sighs, coming over and taking his hand in hers. “You know, you really are the worst kidnapper ever.”
“He hasn’t found you yet,” he reminds her.
“He will,” she assures him calmly. “I need some tweezers.”
“There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen,” he says.
She releases his hand and walks through the house. If it wasn’t a fortress, if I wasn’t trapped here, this would really be lovely. A little romantic getaway for Arthur and me, even. It’s beautiful here. Only problem is, I don’t know exactly where “here” is.
She returns a few minutes later, tweezers in hand. She holds her hand out for Mordred and he gives her his wounded palm.
He flinches and says “Ow” before she even touches him.
“Honestly, Mordred, I haven’t even touched you yet. Here,” she takes his hand and turns, holding his arm beneath hers, so his hand is sticking out in front of her from beneath her armpit, her body between them.
“I can’t see now!” he protests.
“That’s the point,” she says. She quickly removes the splinter from his hand and releases him.
“You didn’t do anything!”
“Look at your hand, genius.”
He does. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Do you need a bandage?” she asks rather condescendingly, as if she is talking to a child.
“No, I think I’ll be fine.”
“I’m almost done with your accounts. Why have you kidnapped me, anyway? You’ve got tons of money.”
“It’s not about money.”
“Of course not.”
“He always got everything he wanted.”
“Of course, the forgotten stepchild.”
“You’re mocking me.” His face is stony.
“I am not,” she says. “Remember, I came from nothing, too.”
“I know,” his voice is small.
“Then why?”
“You’re the only thing he really cares about. His money, his power, they don’t matter to him. He would hand them over without a thought if it meant having you back.”
“Is that what you want? His money, his empire?”
“I thought I did. Now, I’m not sure.”
“You can’t have me,” she says decisively, folding her hands over her chest.
He angles his head at her, almost as if the thought never occurred to him. “You’re not my type.”
“Mordred, call him. Tell him where we are.”
“No.”
“God, you’re just as stubborn as he is!”
“I’m nothing like him!”
“You’re exactly like him! No wonder you don’t get along!”
“You know what? I don’t want to listen to this anymore. Go finish balancing my checkbook.”
“Call Arthur. We won’t press charges.”
“I am not…” he trails off, looking up at the ceiling sharply. It is just then that Gwen hears the distinct sounds of helicopter blades.
Gwen runs to the window, and see the distinctive red and gold of the Pendragon Corporation’s company helicopter.
She turns to Mordred. “You’re too l…”
Mordred is gone.
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